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Even-toed, fluffy, serene, delightful -- my sheep. I visit them every morning once I wake up in my stone castle, snuggled in an island off the shore of Ireland. Each day that I take a wander amongst my furry buddies and watch the waves crash against the dark stones that shield my acreage. Life is bliss. I am seventy-seven years older, and my entire life has been based on the dream of someday attaining this retirement dreamland. How can I get here? Well, it all began in my high school years when I was moving through those awkward times using acne. When I had started my junior year, I was intent on looking perfect academically. It ended lots of energy. Energy that I'd accumulated over time in the despair of the recent divorce, in my immediate family, and, like Lemony Snicket would say, the unrelenting string of unfortunate events. During this moment, I started questioning my Christian faith. I was asked by a few of my buddies, yet again, to visit her church youth group. After coming up with several horrible excuses and feeling guilty, I agreed to go. The sermon that night was about how "we a.. .