I've found myself realizing lately how much of my self I've rejected. It's been a rather intense habit ever since I can clearly remember to throw out whatever bits of my life have gotten redundant or appear misaligned. The problem with this, of course, is that I am always focused on starting over. Almost two years ago I ended an exploration into who I was that was one of the most profound and intense experiences of my life. I started over in my marriage. Then we moved back to the paradise house. I started over in my home life. Then we moved again and I started a home fresh. Every few months, and every few days, my focus shifts and I force myself to start over.

It all feels incredibly devoid of comfort.