Glennon Doyle

We forgot how to know when we learned how to please.

What is wrong with me? Why did I stay and suffer? The door wasn’t even locked.

She said “I do” while her insides said “I don’t,” and then she spent the next decade trying not to know what she knew: that she had betrayed herself and that her life would not really begin until she stopped betraying herself.

The drunker she became, the more distance she felt from the dragon inside her.

After a while, the booze and drugs became her problem, which was convenient because she didn’t have to deal with her real problem anymore.

We’re like snow globes: We spend all of our time, energy, words, and money creating a flurry, trying not to know, making sure that the snow doesn’t settle so we never have to face the fiery truth inside us—solid and unmoving.

We keep ourselves shaken up because there are dragons in our center.

It becomes what you’d most protect

if the government said you can protect

one thing, all else is ours….

it’s what

radiates and what can hurt

if you get too close to it.

I sat in the driver’s seat for a while and realized that the revelation of my husband’s betrayal did not leave me feeling the despair of a wife with a broken heart. I was feeling the rage of a writer with a broken plot.

I’d let down my guard and trusted that the other characters in my story would act as they should and that my plot would unfold as I’d mapped it.