In the most abstract sense, at some point, I thought I needed my father to be an extraordinary father you know someone to play God. When I was hashing out about my life and parents in general, a friend jokingly asked if I had it in me to be an extraordinary daughter first. And somehow that question stuck with me for a long time. So, every time I asked my father to run an extra mile for me, and every time that he did so, unhesitatingly, I came to realize that it was never about being an extraordinary father or being an extraordinary daughter, it’s about being worthy of extraordinary love. To love, extraordinarily.
(Also, I think I’m going to gag on my own words, choke and die. My passages make no sense even to me. I had written this last night & I don’t know why I didn’t publish it. So, my day 5 post has come on day 7 but who cares. I underestimated the true power of my laziness. Oh dear lord. This whole ‘happy’ weekly, monthly, yearly jig is not for me. Also, anyone else is watching Orange is the new Black?)