Entering the Heart of Montana…




Although I grew up in a small town in Montana, I don’t come back often.

I chose not to ride the family crest. Not if it meant living with the issues and manipulation that surrounded me while growing up. I learned to love my family for who they were and set healthy boundaries at the same time. Some times, the ones you have to protect yourself from are the ones you were supposed to be able to trust.

No pity, please – it’s ok.

The hard family lessons I experienced growing up and for some years after gave me a better understanding in life, and in the end they’ve helped me to become a wiser, stronger person, able to touch life in all ways loving and kind.

I don’t regret who I am and know I am far better off despite the difficult life lessons, than some members of my family will ever be … or even others I know.
(but then… I also believe ANYONE can change – how you choose to mentally live your life is a choice! Choose Wisely! Happiness ROCKS!!!)

As you might suspect, any trip to Montana can bring out a plethora of emotions within me. Some good, some very good – some – not so good. But as all things, I run from nothing, and look at it all with an open mind, open heart, and most importantly – open eyes, even when my glasses like rose colors.

The entry into Montana, although I rarely confess it, fills me with this deep almost romantic pride. “This is My State …. I Know this ground …. I once belonged here …. home…”

When I look at Montana, it’s mountains, rolling hills and wide open prairie spaces I always feel like John Wayne will come riding over the edge of a hill at any moment, or a band of wild ponies with painted Indians chasing them will speed by, kicking up the summer dust.

Mostly, though, it’s me… feeling that strong pull to horse flesh and my love of riding that kept me sane while growing up. Wind blowing through my hair while the entire rest of my life is blocked out and I am caught up in a ballet of motion between my horse and myself.

I may not have mentioned it, but I have an excellent seat in the saddle – or I used to. I’m not sure how good I’d be now… but I was a finished Grand Champion locally – 4 times over. I was good. I was hungry for more… but I had to leave.

Home, but not home.

I left my parents home when I was 17 and kept moving forward, although, I have to say it took the next 10 years to really make any progress with my tormented blonde head and have some ground breaking, “Oh yeah! THIS is how to Live and how NOT TO LIVE” moments. (and yes – of course I graduated high school., went to college with honors, basketball and science scholarships – I just chose to not live in my parents home any longer while I was finishing high school. It was a good choice. The negativity was killing me.)

I consider myself blessed. I’ve so much … so many things to be grateful for, despite any hardship or difficulties I’ve walked through. It’s always best, I’ve learned when life deals you lemons, make lemonade. I became very good at squeezing lemons. Even perfected the recipe. lol

Returning to Montana always makes me think …. remember a girl of long ago … a time that no longer exists … the feeling of being lost – before I learned how to find myself.

Nostalgia.

*sighs*

The well of emotions.

What will it be like this time? Will there be any fights? Will everyone get along? Will I ever really have a family?

Why???

And so it goes … but I am in a peaceful place as the questions and thoughts float through me. They can never hurt me again like has happened in the past.

I’m wiser.

I won’t allow it.

(and no – the rest of my Montana posts won’t be so – melodramatic. lol It was honest emotion and I was just sharing the moment.. I don’t live nor dwell in anything negative, it’s bad for my complexion.. *smiles*)

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3 responses to “Entering the Heart of Montana…

  1. For a very long time after I was out on my own, I NEVER wanted to visit “home”. It just never felt comfortable, or even pleasant at times. Sure, there were good times, but over all, it turned into a place I’d just rather forget. I still make the required visits, but they are required and out of duty, not for love of being home. So yeah, I know exactly what you are feeling. I think also at times it becomes too easy to not be part of the old home we knew growing up – too easy to let it go, and live in the here and now.*hugs*

  2. I always comment whenever “Montana” jumps out at me. Where is Range? I lived in Havre for 3 years in the early 60’s. My boss was Stan Stephens, who later became Governor. Made such an impression on me that I still think about it after all these years and decades. Love your writing style. Clffie

  3. Hi Cliffie, and thank you, I’m always amazed when people like my writing style or reading what I’ve written, so I totally appreicate the feedback. Home on the Range isn’t far from the area you’re familiar with. I think I even vaguely remember that governor! lol

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