Searching for Spring

In my part of the world, winter can be a beast.  It tends to arrive fierce and furious some time around November (sometimes earlier) and doesn't let up until...well, it's anyone's guess, really.  There's a saying that March is "in like a lion, out like a lamb" but these past few years it has been more like "in like a lion, ooh yay it's a lamb, nope sorry, out like an even angrier lion, suckers!"  Case in point: last week, the kids were outside in shorts and t-shirts.  Yesterday, it snowed.  Our front porch is home to both the snow shovel and the scooters, at the moment, prepared as we are for all possibilities.

Many people find winter a challenge.  The shovelling, the scraping, the icy roads, the snowpants-and-mitts-and-scarves-and-hats-and-coats-and-losing-of-one's-mind, the freezing off of faces and exposed limbs - it's a little much.  And for those who have depression or are otherwise facing a trying time in their lives, the darkness and the somewhat forced isolation, as we settle in for our yearly hibernation, can be particularly difficult.  We pray for warm weather.  We beg for it.  We count down the days and search for signs of spring.  Anything.  Any sign at all to keep us going.

A funny thing happens in this part of the world as March comes along and we near the date of the "official start of spring" (a laughable concept, of course - as if Mother Nature checks the calendar! - but sometimes it's the only bit of hope we can cling to).  We search for signs of spring, and divide into camps.  

I've heard tell of those who mourn the loss of the bitter winds and the short days, real "winter lovers" which seems to me to be an oxymoron.  I try not to associate with such people myself because WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT but apparently they exist.  And they're not all skiers and snowboarders and other winter sport nut bars. It seems some people just like winter (I blame the parents).  And I guess as the days grow longer and the beautiful warm sunshine reappears they shriek and shield their eyes and melt with the frost.  I don't really know.  

And then there are those who will take any little bit of hope they can get their hands on.  "It's a balmy -15C, guys!  My skin didn't immediately go numb with frostbite!  Let's head to the beach!"  These are the people dodging sleet in their sneakers and Bermuda shorts.  You've seen them.  They are another brand of nut bar but you've got to hand it to them: they are working with what they've got and making the best of it.  

A slightly more reasonable version of these optimistic freaks are those who quite simply REACH THEIR LIMIT.  At a certain point, despite the forecast, they decide that enough is enough and they banish their winter gear to the darkest recesses of their closets where they will remain untouched, dammit, for at least seven months no matter what happens because YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME, WEATHER!  They know the risk they're taking because as soon as they have taken their bold stand and traded their down coats for jean jackets OF COURSE Jack Frost will return.  And be a total dick.  But they just can't take one more minute.  

In the final camp are those who remain cocooned in their crocheted infinity scarves long after winter's last dying breath.  It's full-on flip-flop season and they're layered up and have brought along a fleece pullover "just in case".  Because you never know.  That's how winter gets you.  You think it's all done and then BOOM.  July.  Snowstorm.  You'll be wishing you packed your parka, then!  

It seems to me that these attitudes reflect how we feel about hope.

For some, there's either no need for hope - they revel in the darkness - or hope is simply absent.  There's no point in wishing for spring, because it feels as though spring will never come.  There's no such thing as better days ahead.

For others, hope is abundant and reasons to keep going are easily found.  The buds on the trees.  The smile of a passing stranger.  They're the tulip fighting its way through the soil on the promise of that one speck of light above.

Others take matters into their own hands.  They don't wait for signs of spring.  They decide that they will live as if it is spring, creating hope as they go, despite the flurries in the forecast.  

And then there are those who let the fear and darkness block out the blinding light.  Sunshine and opportunity can abound and they worry that at any moment it will all be lost.  They remain frozen in their vigilance.

There are some who live their lives forever camped in one of these places but I think for most of us, we move between them.  This is certainly the case for me, and I think that all of these perspectives can be right, at least for a time.  It is natural to feel hopeless sometimes.  It is okay to be in that darkness.  And it makes sense to be scared.  Do freak July snowstorms happen?  They sure do.  But I'd like to suggest that the supplies you need are close at hand and you've been through this before.  You can trust that you will dig your way out with the shovels of tenacity and loving support and your own strength.  You can let your guard down because this arsenal remains at the ready whenever you need it.

I've been searching for spring these past few months and for my part, today I'm going to put the snow shovel away.  Enough is enough.  I know that means I'm courting disaster.  But I have faith that I'll make it through if it comes.   

Today, I will put away the fears that have held me frozen.

Today, I will banish the doubts that hold me back.  

Today, I will shed the layers that no longer keep me safe but, rather, block me from feeling the sun. 

I will be the tulip.  

I see the light. 

This Is Important

Today is Bell Let's Talk Day, part of Bell's charitable Let's Talk program dedicated to supporting mental health.  If you're not familiar with the program, please check out their website.  Bell and their partner organizations are doing impressive work to improve mental health services and to combat the pervasive stigmas around mental illness.

As many of you know, this is a cause near and dear to my heart.  I have struggled with depression for most of my adult life and many other family members and friends have also been affected by mental illness.  But mental health is something we should all be talking about, today and every day.  As noted on the Bell Let's Talk website, according to the Canadian Institute of Health Research, 1 in 5 Canadians will experience a form of mental illness at some point in their life.  That's a lot of us.  That's a lot of people who need our understanding, kindness and support.  Another fact: 2 in 3 people suffer in silence fearing judgment and rejection.  This may not be surprising when you consider that only 49% of people say they would socialize with a friend who has a serious mental illness (both facts from the Canadian Medical Association, via the Bell Let's Talk website).  May I take a moment to say that you other 51% are missing out: we are awesome.

The fact that I want to bring the most attention to today, though, is this one: Approximately 11 people end their lives by suicide in Canada every day (Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention).  11 people EVERY DAY.  These are people in our families.  These are co-workers.  These are our young adults.  These are people we see in our community.  These are people we don't see.  

We need to do better.  Fortunately, initiatives like Bell's Let's Talk program are calling attention to the importance of mental health first aid, training that is just as important as physical first aid.  As noted in this article in The Washington Post, it is possibly more important.  Given the statistics above, there is a pretty good chance that, at some point in your life, you will encounter someone who is experiencing a mental health crisis and needs your help.

So, when that happens, what will you do? 

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to participate in a suicide alertness training program called SafeTALK, created by LivingWorks.  It was an excellent program and I want to encourage you all to look into taking it or something similar available in your area.  Don't make the mistake of thinking that because you don't think that you know anyone experiencing a mental illness, you won't need this training.  The truth is that at any time, any of us could be the one person that that family member, that co-worker, that young adult, that person in our community, that stranger we don't know, invites into a conversation about their mental health concerns and possible suicidal thoughts.  

This does not take the place of attending a full training program and I wish to make clear that I am not a representative of this program, but I would like to use this space to highlight a few of the key things I learned at the SafeTALK training as you may find them helpful.  The TALK in the title is an acronym: Tell, Ask, Listen, KeepSafe.  

Tell - A person with thoughts of suicide may make invitations to you (consciously or not) to speak about their concerns and suicidal thoughts.  These invitations may be explicit or they may not be; often, they are not.  You may get a sense that they are possibly having suicidal thoughts based on what you see (i.e. being moody or withdrawn), what you hear (i.e. talk of having no purpose or being a burden), what you sense (i.e. desperation or hopelessness), or what you learn about by speaking with them (i.e. that they are experiencing abuse or rejection).   

Ask - The first step to helping someone is to ask about these invitations.  SafeTALK recommends saying this: "When someone is [INVITATIONS], they are sometimes thinking about suicide.  Are you thinking about suicide?"  (For example, "When someone is missing work, worrying about things, and withdrawing from friends and family, they are sometimes thinking about suicide.  Are you thinking about suicide?"). It is important to understand that you cannot plant the idea of suicide in someone's head, and the phrase "thinking about suicide" is preferable to "thinking about harming yourself" because it is clear and direct.  Include the specific invitations that are leading you to ask them whether they are thinking about suicide.  

Listen - If the person says that they are having thoughts of suicide, SafeTALK recommends replying as follows: "Let's talk about this.  I am listening.  This is important."  Make it clear that you are available to listen to them and to help, and that their concerns and feelings are important.  And then listen.

Importantly, if the person denies that they are having thoughts of suicide but your gut feeling is that they are in danger, move ahead to the next step anyways.

KeepSafe - If you yourself have not completed suicide intervention training (please note that this is a more advanced training program than suicide alertness training), then you need to get them connected with someone who has.  Tell the person: "We need extra help.  I want to connect you with someone who can help you KeepSafe."  Then make that connection.  Call your local suicide crisis centre or another identified community support, or someone you know who has completed suicide intervention training and would be available to help.  Take them directly to a counselling centre or hospital.  If you believe that the person is in immediate danger, call emergency services (in many locations, this would be 911).  Stay with them until you have completed that connection.  

(I wish to emphasize again that the advice listed above is not intended to take the place of attending a suicide alertness training program and it is not representative of the complete SafeTALK program.)

So, here are some next steps:

• Look into suicide alertness and suicide intervention training programs in your area. Yes, it will require taking some time out of your daily life to attend. Yes, some of the programs cost money. But if you help to save a life, I believe you'll think of it as time and money well spent. (It is possible too that your employer will help you with the time and cost, or perhaps you can encourage them to bring in training for your entire staff...look into it). Look it up now while you're on the Internet. LivingWorks, linked here and above, is an international organization and a good place to start, but if they are not offering training in your area, keep looking.
  

• Look up the KeepSafe connections in your community: those individuals, organizations, crisis lines and emergency services that are trained and available to provide proper suicide intervention and professional help. Compile a list of their contact information. Keep it handy. Don't put this off. Make time for this task this week. It is my understanding that in Canada, 911 is a nationwide emergency service and free to dial from any phone. Here is a link to find a crisis centre near you.
  

• Think about how you can help to support a suicide-safe community. Consider these 5 simple ways to help.

These are not easy conversations to have, and mental illness, and the stigma surrounding it, are not easy things to battle.  However...

This is important. 

This is so very important.

The Loss or the Lesson

On my way home from work today, I stopped at Portsmouth Olympic Harbour.  It was a beautiful day and I had my camera with me, intent on getting a photo to accompany the post I planned to write tonight.  I walked along the sun-soaked pier, snapping photos aimlessly with no clear subject in mind, marveling at the sparkling lake that had been ice up until much too recently for my liking.  The spring was a long time coming this year, and I think many of us around these parts are greeting it with arms flung wide with adoration and enthusiasm, although not without a gentle, exasperated "Where have you been?!!!" reproach.  But you can't stay mad too long, not on a day like this.

I had stopped on the pier to admire the view, thinking for about the millionth time that I live in a tremendously beautiful city, when suddenly there seemed to appear out of nowhere a flock of birds flying in my direction, about to be perfectly positioned for a gorgeous shot as they emerged as if from the sun.  I quickly tilted my camera in their direction and pressed the shutter button, and then again and again, feverishly and futilely, as it turns out.  My camera wouldn't take the shot.  And then they were gone. 

I watched them fly off and laughed, because I immediately got the message.  My camera was set on automatic and couldn't focus.  Which exactly describes the last few years of my life.

The location of my photo shoot was deliberately chosen, although I couldn't have predicted my experience with the un-photographable flock and the moment's echo of another visit.  It's been a long few years since this other morning at the harbour when, as it happens, I managed to get a very similar shot to the one I attempted today.  It's been a long few years of trying to keep it together and figure out a new life, putting one foot in front of the other to move forward.  And, doing so, I've come a long way.  But I've also been dancing on the edge of burning out, and feeling an acute lack of focus and self-connection as I've been going through the motions, living my life on automatic.  Not unhappy, not all the time, but not truly living.

Over the last year, I've noticed a growing gut feeling that it is time to stop, a feeling that whispered quietly at first but recently it has been singing in every cell in my body, which sounds dramatic (even for me) but I have been slowly filled up by this feeling and now feel truly saturated in the knowledge that I need to flip the switch from automatic to manual and take control of my life.  I need to shake things up a bit.  I need to live.

Five weeks ago, I gave notice at my job.  Tomorrow is my last day.  I don't have another job to go to.  I was saying to a friend the other day that I haven't quite perfected my sound bite, the abstract of my decision, to offer when responding to the natural question, "What will you be doing?"  Thankfully, I came to the most beautiful and freeing realization very quickly that I don't have to fully explain this to anyone, but I have found that in my attempts to do so, I have come to a clearer understanding of it for myself.  So here's the best I've come to, for what it's worth:  I'm taking some time off to take care of three priorities: my health, my daughters, and my dreams.

I have a body that is strong and able and capable of most anything.  That might not always be the case.  My rheumatologist reminds me on a regular basis that my rheumatoid arthritis, which, to date, has been fairly manageable, could get bad at the turn of a dime.  I read a statistic once that said that 50% of those diagnosed with RA are unable to work ten years post-diagnosis.  I was diagnosed nine years ago.  Of course, there's every chance I'm in the lucky 50%, but I can't sit in front of a computer with my able body, doing a job I don't love, any longer.  There's a chance I'm going to have plenty of time to sit around all day soon enough.

I have two incredible daughters who have been through a hell of a lot in the last few years and have come through so remarkably, but even still there's a palpable, mutual longing between us for more time together, for a deeper reconnection.  This is a critical time in their lives, and I can afford to invest in more time for the three of us to be together.  I may not always be able to pick them up from school every day, I may not always be able to afford to have the whole summer with them, but I can do it now.  So I'm going to.

I have been told by others all my life that I should be a writer and, most importantly, I have agreed with the assessment.  I have a lifetime's worth of notebooks and Word files and backs-of-envelopes full of half-finished writing and ideas that, if they haven't yet in my nearly 37 years here, are never going to see the light of day unless I throw myself at them and shake off the dust.  I'm a few sentences away from completing a children's book.  I have been a few sentences away for nearly two years.  Attempting to summon creativity at 10:00 at night after a full day at work and putting two kids to bed and trying to keep my house (and myself) from collapsing into shambles...well, that's working about as well as you might expect.  I can't fit these dreams into the margins of my life.  I have to take a run at them full-throttle. (And yes, sit my able body in front of a computer from time to time to do so, but it's a different kind of sitting.  An energized sitting with intent.)

All signs have been pointing in this direction and, other than some initial nausea when I first spoke the words "I am leaving", all I've felt in these last few weeks is joy and relief.  I don't know what will happen, but I have set myself no metrics for success.  If I need to head back to a desk job six months from now, so be it.  But right now, each one of those singing cells knows this is the right decision, and each one of those cells was in the moment on that pier, with the birds flying out of shot, feeling nothing but amusement and gratitude.

Had I missed a shot like that a few years back, I would have been upset.  I would have lost sight of the beauty around me, wrapped up in my disappointment.  I would have only seen the loss, just as, on that July morning at the harbour a few years ago, I only saw the loss of the life I once knew.  But today I saw the lesson.  That's really what it seems to be about.  Choosing whether you're going to see the loss or the lesson.

So there you go.  There's the best shot I got today, above.  If we're looking for relevance to subject matter, let's say it represents my new, clear direction toward the light.  Or I suppose you could say it's the path to a drop-off into an abyss, if you want to be all Negative Nelly about it.  This is either going to be one of the best decisions of my life or one of the worst.  I expect it will be the former but I'm prepared for the latter (I've been to hell and back a few times now so I know the route).  Frankly though, I'm just ready to find out. 

There was much more I planned to say about my new-life launch - about the array of interesting reactions experienced when you tell people you're opting out of the working world for awhile, for example - but those words can wait for another day (I'm about to have a lot of time on my hands, after all).  My life didn't go to plan either, and I'd say both post and life have ended up better because of it. 

Wear the Purple Shoes

Pop these puppies on your feet and get a move on. Because depression? Ain't nobody got time for that.

The episode recap for the last two weeks of my life would read something like this: Last straw meets camel's back.  Shit meets fan.  Much flailing and sorrow and angst.  Fade to garbled mess where a somewhat put-together woman once stood.

I joke, as always (and I think it's a good thing that I've not lost my sense of humour), but the fact of the matter is that the combination of a long, cold winter and some unexpected and less-than-favourable events dredged up a once-dormant darkness in me that I had been struggling to keep at bay, unloving thoughts that had been coming in whispers I could swiftly silence.  

Then one morning last week I woke to a full choral ensemble, The Unkindnesses, performing a playlist of self-hatred at deafening levels.  They sang some of the old standards.  You are Alone and Always Will Be.  Nobody Loves You.  This Pain Will Never End. 

And then, just as they launched into a rousing rendition of They'd Be Better Off Without You, a strong voice gently commanded:

"Get.  Up." 

I got up out of bed, pain settling like dust in my wake.  I walked to the closet to get dressed, scanned the hangers and selected the softest of all grey sweaters.

"It feels like a hug," the voice noted, pleased, as I pulled the sweater over my head. 

"Surround yourself in love," it continued.  I reached for my favourite scarf, an expanse of rich purple dotted with small white hearts, and wrapped its warmth around my shoulders.  "And wear the purple shoes."

We all know the Golden Rule:  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  I hereby propose the Silver Rule, no less important:  Do unto yourself as you would do unto others.  As kind as you are to others, be kind to yourself.  As forgiving as you are of others, be forgiving of yourself.  And listen for the voice in you, the voice of self-love, when it speaks.  Fight to hear that loyal voice amidst the cacophony of contempt.  The more you listen, the more it will talk.  The more it talks, the more it will shout.  Give it a megaphone and drown out that dismal choir.

I got through that day, and the ones since, and will get up and get through many more, with purple shoes on my feet helping to move me forward, with soft, grey hugs and the arms of my dear ones encircling me, surrounded by love.  And you can too.

Let the Plates Fall

This photo was taken in 2009. Pretty sure that was the last time we saw the sun around here.

Sometimes the snow falls slowly, flake by delicate flake, so slowly that you don't notice their accumulation.  Suddenly, it seems, the innocuous flakes that fell so quietly have blanketed the land, and you must bundle up and shovel your way out.

Such has been my life over the past few months.  As the literal snow has fallen down on my shoulders, so too has the weight of responsibilities, none of them so great as to be unmanageable on their own but suddenly, it seemed, they had accumulated and I needed to bundle up and shovel my way out.

Some time in late October or early November, I think, I stopped during a particularly bad moment and wrote down what I was feeling:

“I’m feeling a little like I’m on the verge of being overwhelmed, that one straw too many will be piled on and I will collapse. I can’t point to what, exactly, has me feeling this way. Just that I’m eroding, the cumulative effect of a natural force that I can’t withstand...I feel like I’m spinning a thousand tiny plates, losing a few at any given moment, too small to make much sound, too few to make a fuss, but the constant tiny failures undermine the constant tiny successes which must be there but they’re making no noise doing their spinning...This is a very undramatic way to fall apart - it’s not even falling apart, more like falling into disrepair, an aging, things breaking down and not working as well as they once did...How did I give so much before? How did I do this? What has triggered this slow avalanche?”

It seemed a good time, then, to stop and listen.  To step back from all that wasn't necessary so I could take care of myself and plan a better way forward.  I could feel the pull of my depression, which tends to test the foundation for cracks every year as the winter comes on.  I can hear its voice in some of the words above, the ghost writer to my most uncharitable thoughts.  (Holy metaphor city around here).

This is not to give the impression that all has been dire and hopeless.  On the contrary, the last few months have seen the beginning of some wonderful new storylines in my life.  New connections with old friends, new ideas for writing and other creative projects, progress made toward other goals.  Stepping back and intentionally allowing some of the plates to fall allowed me the time and energy to nurture those relationships and ideas and take those steps toward building the future I want, to get some of my most important plates spinning.  (I highly recommend doing this, letting the plates fall.  It is amazingly un-disastrous.)  I'm happy to say that I'm feeling much better.  And I'm ready to giv'r.  

So once again, with feeling: let's do this thing.

The Darkness and the Light

Despicable me

This is a picture of me taken in March-ish 2000, at my university department's annual end-of-year celebration.  There was much to celebrate: my classmates and I had just completed the final year of our program and would soon be graduating.  I remember that as a fun night, as we danced and laughed and reminisced about our four years together.

The thing is, this is also a picture of a girl who desperately wanted to die.  

This picture was taken during the worst period of my depression, when I would cry myself to sleep hoping not to wake up, and cry again in the morning when my wish hadn't been granted and I had to face another day.  When I would hear about tragedies - a fatal car accident, a cancer diagnosis, a pedestrian hit by a bus - and wonder why it wasn't me.  Wondered, if there was a God, why He didn't take me when I clearly wanted to go.  Those poor victims, I'd think.  They probably wanted to be here.  

In this way I was, what I would call, passively suicidal.  I courted death but didn't take the matter into my own hands.  But I think that was only a matter of time.  In fact, I would say that had I not received the right help when I did, shortly after this photo was taken, I don't think I would have been around 6 months later.

All this to say two things:

There's this idea some have, I think, that when someone is "really" depressed, it is obvious.  That they're slovenly and distracted and crying all the time and not eating and failing their classes and missing work.  And sometimes that's true.  And sometimes someone will notice.  And sometimes someone will do something to help.  But often, all too often, depression hides its face and stalks in silence, slowly unraveling a person and a life bit by bit.  Because to call attention to itself would be self-defeating.  Depression plays a game of Statues: when someone's looking, it freezes and does everything within its power to remain undetected, something at which it is highly skilled, but as soon as backs are turned and you're alone again, it makes its move.  Hush hush hush, it whispers in your ear when people are around.  Don't tell.  Then as soon as they're gone, it hisses: I will destroy you.  

For depression to survive, it needs its victim to keep quiet.  It's a disease that convinces its victim that it does not exist.  

Think about that for a second.  What a terribly vicious circle.  An abuser who slaps you because you won't stop crying.  A beast sharpening its claws while insisting you're not on the menu.

The girl in this picture who wanted to die got out of bed every day and got dressed and went to every class and got good grades.  I don't think anyone knew, other than my partner at the time who was as supportive as you can be to a person who screams in your face and cries uncontrollably as soon as the front door is closed.  I was once proud that no one knew.  As a Drama student, I thought that the deception that I was happy and all was well was my greatest performance.  But again, that pride was the depression talking.  How can it keep playing if you throw the game?

Hush now, it says.  Don't let them find out how terrible you are.

See, that's the crux of it, that's the thing that someone with depression is trying to keep quiet.  The "truth", as told to you by a hugely persuasive voice that claims authority and who are you to argue because you are a horrible person who doesn't deserve to be here.  

Which leads me to my second point.  There's another idea that some have that suicide is selfish.  I can understand why people say that.  I can understand how those left behind wonder how their loved one could do this to them, could leave them in such pain.  

I can't speak for those who have left. I don't know the particular brands of torment their minds created for them.  But I can tell you that at the height of my illness, when suicide suited up and presented itself as my only saviour, this insidious disease was, in fact, telling me that taking my life was the only way I could redeem myself:  I would save the world from how terrible I was.  I knew that my family and friends didn't see this "truth" about me, but I believed that it was only a matter of time.  I knew that they wouldn't understand, I knew they would be hurt, but I believed that I would cause them more pain if I stayed.  Suicide was the lesser of two evils, my existence being the evil that was insurmountable.  My one gift to the world would be to subtract myself from it.  

So what then?  How do you recognize this beast if it is stalking you?  How do you turn in time to see it move?  How do you notice that it has made another its prey, if it stays so silent?  By no means do I have all the answers but I offer these thoughts for whatever small bit of help or comfort they may provide.

To the last point first, to those who could serve to help others going through this pain:  Be kind.  Not just when a moment presents itself but actively seek out opportunities to treat others, all others, with kindness.  We could all do with more kind words and actions in our days, and for those being subjected to a steady stream of self-hatred, the need is great and your kindness may be the only little bit of it that they receive, or the only little bit of it that gets through.  It may not topple the mountain but it may make the smallest of cracks.  Invite those sitting on the sidelines to join in; whether or not they do, the invitation offers a connection and a choice, two things that can seem vastly out of reach.  Get to know those around you and if you sense that someone might be in need of some help, talk to them and help get them help.  Ask for others to support you in doing that, in finding the right resources.  We have a responsibility to look out for each other.

To those for whom any of my story rang true, those who think they are worthless, who feel that all is dark:  I promise you that there is light.  Your dark thoughts are not you.  You have been hijacked by an other that is self-serving.   Once you catch it moving you'll be able to throw the game by seeing this beast for what it really is:  a sheep in wolf's clothing.  It is nothing without you.  Which means you hold all the power.

This is not to underestimate the work to be done to get it off your back; it can be a difficult journey (for me, the journey included four years on medication and six or so in therapy, and I have to remain vigilant even now).  But you can do it.  There is love and support around you, and help available, and you are stronger than you think.  If I accomplish nothing else with this website, with this life, I hope to stand in testament to the fact that you can make it through, and find peace and health and a life you love.   And immeasurable amounts of joy.  You deserve it.

Me.

And one day you'll look back and the darkness will serve only as a memory which helps the light shine even brighter, and the journey from there to here will have been the great emboldening of you.

And you may even find yourself on a sunny August afternoon pulling your car over on to the shoulder, hopping a fence into a farmer's sun-soaked field, spinning around until you're dizzy and smiling from ear to ear.

And feeling free.