Last year, on a Sunday night I held my children close to me. I held them closer than I ever had. Put my smile on, and said, “I’ll see you in a few days…”

My youngest, barely four years old wanted to know what toys he’d have when he got back to my house…my 9 year old looked at me and said, “Mommy, I’m scared.” I told her, “Ellie, no matter what happens, you have me. You ARE me. You might even try to lose me because this is so hard, but you can’t. I am always always gonna be part of you.” We joked. We laughed…we smiled.

WE smiled because….nothing will ever destroy love.

She didn’t know how true that was – and probably won’t until she’s older… I don’t think *I* knew how true that was.

Tonight, I did what I said I would do: I hosted a celebration of life – a celebration of LIVING….and while I thought I did it because I was fulfilling a promise I had made to myself, I did it because – holy fucking shit – I DID IT.

I have all sorts of emotions that range from relief to gratitude to anger…but I did it. I’m here, and I’m happy, and I’m alive.

I want to tell the story of tonight, but I’m so overflowing that I just have to end with that….

and some photos of joy deeper than can be expressed

A surprise visit that I will NEVER EVER EVER forget

I think the baby is bigger than I am already! *so excited to meet this one!*

unsupervised fun……shiiiiiiiiiiiit

another view of unsupervised fun. *shiiiiiiiiiiiit*

Mama with her girls

annnnnd….the stole my phone

All day I’ve been waiting for inspiration to strike: how do I tell the story of the last few years?

Do I start with the story of my divorce, and how I found the courage to leave? Do I tell the story of all of the upheaval of every little tiny piece of the life I knew? Do I maybe start with the revitalization and community that roller derby brought me? Do I talk about the grief of losing friends because of the process of restarting my life? Do I talk about Ellie’s courageous fight against anxiety? May be the brain surgery would be good place to start…..or the story of falling in love madly and deeply only to have my heart broken? See, none of these make sense to me, because I think this may be a story that is best told backwards. Maybe this is a story that starts with now. With today, and works it’s way organically into the braid that I’ve been weaving. Scars have a way of speaking for themselves – becoming prominent when their time to express has come. So I’ve decided to stick with that.

Getting back into the habit of writing and posting and creating is so similar to getting back into an exercise regime….I start out pretty damn rusty, and it’s a fight to motivate and “find the time.” Everything stands in the way, and other things just seem just so much more important…and then when I finally get moving, I’m happy I’m moving, but I’m  weak and hardly where I want to be. But I get up the next day and skip the sugar in my coffee and pass on the pastry while eating some protein and avocado….and soon, I’m back in the swing of things…it’s just a matter of discipline. So I’m guessing the next few weeks will be the same for my writing…pretty weak, hardly impactful, but building toward a healthier me.