Gumball Says...

Tonight, my precious, little darling Gumball asked me if Horton would fit in my bellybutton.

Horton is her 10-inch long stuffed elephant. He apparently Hears a Who.

NO FUCKING WAY, kid. And if he could, it would be entirely your fault. Grrrrr...



Doing Pilates yesterday, and Zumba tonight may have been a mistake.  I am dead. The vast landscape between my thighs and ribcage is on fire. My "core," if I have one, is broken.



I was thinking about something else today too. Why I write. I write bc I want to share my limited experience. A little more than two years ago, my life ended. I hit depths of anguish, terror, sorrow, loneliness, heartbreak, and fear that I never knew existed. It was unrelenting, and I honestly have no idea how I survived. Actually I do. Sheer fucking determination and stubbornness. When my first best friend offered me a lifeline, I grabbed hold. With both hands. My mom, and my new friends in Vermont, breathed joy into my lifeless being. I learned a little during this experience. I learned to appreciate any small reason to be happy. I learned how infinitesimally small the space is in between having a happy and successful life, and complete darkness and despair. I doubled my capacity for compassion. I gained a whole new love and respect for moms, and their kindness, strength, generosity, and love. I met women who are the best friends, people, parents, dining companions, fashion consultants, vacation planners anyone could ever want.

And I hope that someone might read this, and realize that no matter how bad things are, they will always get better. Open your hands to accept lifelines, and keep plugging away. Happiness will return.