by: Shirley Satterfield
It is easy to glide over the Ocean of Good effortlessly. gracefully when the sea is like glass and the path to good is brightly lit by the sun-and there’s love and laughter on the ship. But I was born on a stormy sea, a choppy sea, a virtual whirlpool of dark pain-and was not even invited to board the boat. And thusly was my shattered personality scattered on the ocean floor by a Shark. I think I should at least get credit for surviving this kind of pain, much less thriving in my marriage like I do. For all intents and purposes, I should be dead.