This past year has been spent in so many wonderful ways, like having an intermittently amazing view while riding a roller coaster that was, of course, going up incredibly high and dipping so low to the ground it made you wonder if you could avoid hitting it right until the last moment.
I write this sat opposite my roommate/sister/bestie at our kitchen table, surrounded by our furbabies and both working on our laptops (accompanied by a delicious glass of red wine, of course). She just sneezed, which caused me all kinds of complex emotions (three times is more than enough, Jess), but other than that, I am utterly content. The evening has been spent with her and my Neldie Chris, with those two working on some lesson plans for Chris' English class while I faffed around online and tried to win a fight with my computer. Jess and I are about to watch the latest two Doctor Who episodes back-to-back and then I am getting an early night after a day of initial laziness, followed by 3.5 hours of gardening and a two-mile run.
|Reading a Grimm fairytale to us.|
|Live-tweeting to Chris' teacher Twitter account as Jess reads.|
So I guess this post is about the most simple thing: I'm happy. I'm truly, deep-down, still-me happy, and although I still have my elevated anxiety and inability to slow myself to anything lower than about 100 mph most of the time, I sense not just recovery but a joy that I thought I might never have again. I feel more myself than perhaps I ever have - I know I can cope with almost anything thrown at me, and I know I have the love and support of some of the best humans in existence, across the globe. Life is full of amazing, simple, everyday, extraordinary things, and I get to celebrate that every time I wake up, because that's who I choose to be, and who I am. I have no idea what the future holds (who does?), but I feel able to walk forward with a huge grin on my face and, at last, able to live up to what my cardinal reminds me of: to be rather than to seem to be. I couldn't be more grateful.