Girls Without Shoes

October 16, 2008

Chickens Come Home To Roost

Why is it that chickens come home to roost later on, when it does not matter as much? Why when you do not care so much? Why, when you get on with your life and let go, would they come back to roost? Tell me the answer to this because I don’t understand.

If it is other people’s chickens coming home to roost, it can mean them suffering the consequences of their own actions. Say, if they wronged someone and did not act as if they cared about the hurting of that someone. It would seem that they are the one who escaped without the hurt, when in fact years later, sometimes 10 years later, they realize that they have not escaped any of the hurt at all.

Such as in the game of love. The BIG L…….. A woman is so in love with a man that she will do just about anything for him, or go through anything for him. Sometimes even humiliation. Love can disguise all wrongs, at least for a time. But only for a time. Eventually that woman takes what is left of herself and walks away from it. Just walks away, crying and hurting like she never has before. She is sure that she gave all of herself, though she is left feeling as if she never, ever was enough. She is wondering what, oh what exactly, is wrong with her?

Her soul feels torn for a time after. Eventually that tear heals over and she goes on. She goes on to another life, another love, though it is never the same. No two loves can ever be the same.

There are more hurts, more indecisions, more relationship changes. Plenty of loves can be had, but only a few are worthy. They all are not right. Not perfect as no one is perfect. Some come close, very close.

She comes to a time in her life where she does not depend on another’s love for her self importance. She knows herself by now, knows what is important to her and to her life. She won’t settle for anything less. Anything less is a waste of her time.

That is when the chickens come home to roost. That is when they see what they should have seen years ago. That is when they know what they should have known before. When it is too late. When it is way too late. That is when the chickens will come home to roost.

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8 Comments »

  1. I’ll always wonder why, for all that it seems to just be this way.
    This is so poignant, and stunningly true for some of us.
    Thank you for your words here.

    Comment by oracleofthepearl — October 16, 2008 @ 6:19 pm

  2. I am sending you a big hug…. Im with you sister… if you ever need a friend, Im only an email away!

    Comment by Amber — October 16, 2008 @ 11:28 pm

  3. Thanks for the hugs Amber! Us girls need to stick together.

    Comment by girlswithoutshoes — October 17, 2008 @ 3:23 am

  4. A dear friend brought me to your post today, for she knew how much your message would strike to the core of the emotional roller coaster I have been going through of late. Your words have given me a better understanding of why I am feeling the way I do, and what I must do for my own self-worth. Thank You!

    Comment by freedomwon — October 17, 2008 @ 3:45 am

  5. Thank you for your words. I am glad it meant something to you. Hugs.

    Comment by girlswithoutshoes — October 17, 2008 @ 4:14 am

  6. I second what Pearl and Amber say, poignant and true with huge hugs to you (that was not intended to rhyme hmm)

    I am blessed to have come across your blog, your thoughts, your words and your insight. A blessing indeed!

    Thanks to you, I feel equally blessed to have you visit!

    Comment by SanityFound — October 18, 2008 @ 10:34 am

  7. Thank You for putting my thoughts into words that
    I couldn’t find. You are truly a blessing in this
    ol’ world!!!! Hugs forever FRIEND & “SISTER-BY-
    CHOICE”!!!!!!!

    Comment by Connie — October 21, 2008 @ 3:27 am

  8. We’re a group of volunteers and opening a new scheme in our community. Your web site offered us with valuable information to work on. You have done a formidable job and our whole community will be grateful to you.

    Comment by breakup solution — April 13, 2013 @ 6:50 am


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