It’s been almost a year since I’ve written. I’m sorry; I’ve been busy.
I got a husband. Became a wife. Began therapy for my psychiatric disorder. Fought depression, anxiety, and myself. Quit my job. Faced my night terrors. Found my voice. Emancipated my introvert. Picked a grad school program. Learned to bake bread, chocolate-whiskey cake, beer can chicken and moussaka. Learned to mix White (and black) Russians. Increased my drinking tolerance from 1 drink to 3. Increased my running distance from .5mile to 3.5miles. Decreased my average mile time from 15 minutes to 10. Made a new friend. Bleached a girl’s apartment when her kid had MRSA. Survived an earthquake, Irene, Sandy, Nemo, and 2 nor’easters. Spent endless hours with my man laughing and playing and talking and praying and arguing over who the best supreme court justice is. And, I learned to wear blush the right way. It’s been the best of times, it’s been the worst of times, and it’s been a whole lot more than that.
This is his happiest smile. This is his old-man-with-no-teeth smile. I love it the most.