‘While watching Dunkirk just now in Pasadena, I sat in awe of the inspirational heroism employeed by many unlike myself. I herald them for their currage, my grandfather was on a U.S. Navy Destroyer, Her grandfather too, a U.S. Fighter pilot, my grandmother a U.S. navy civian manufacturer.
Ironically; I must circle back to the dogfight I described I was in with my Ex2 just a week ago. See above screen shot. See July 15th blog.
I was in my own air battle figuratively speaking, I was in a goddamn dog fight, fighting for psychological survival. I have fought many battles…I took a few wins for myself figuratively speaking in previous air fights. This last one; however, the Ex2 took me down. I went down.
I feel as if, there may be a very slow recovery. My wings were definitely clipped. I am alone in Pasadena tearing up as write this; yeah who cares. One must admit when you loses. When the dog fight is lost. I admitted this on July 15th that I crashed and burned. Tore down out of the sky. Like in the end of Dunkirk, it was a total shameful loss.
In the sport of Cheif Justice John Roberts just wrote to a graduating class: I hope you know failure to know success. Yes?
I hope you know love lost (heartbreak) to appreciate when loved and to love. Yes?
I hope you know to lose a dog fight, figuratively speaking, to know what win is.
I admitted a week ago: the dog fight was in her favor. I couldn’t say or do right, all maneuvers just delayed the inevitable. Hit-hit-hit! This was her. On my 6!