About Me: Part One - How I Got Here:

Light at the end of a train tunnel

As I’ve mentioned, the past few years have not been kind to me; I’ve gone through “the shit,” and the one thing I realized is that I am not alone!

Those of you who have had “the shit” happen to them are precisely why I feel it is so important to share my story!

The aforementioned circus is why I feel I am credible and why I can speak of my complete lack of self-worth, heartbreak, do-overs, and repeatedly

hoping to find myself…REPEATEDLY!!! To some, my story may seem overdramatic and a bit ridiculous. Yet others might say, “Yep, that sounds

about right.” Those of you who have had “the shit” happen to them are precisely why I feel it is so important to share my story!

I have decided that if my story has any value, I need to tell it ALL!

Even the absolute and most HUMILIATING pieces need to be shared because this is real life; it is not made-up fodder for social media. I’m hoping

this gives me “street cred” for making it to the other side! But seriously, sharing my trauma is healing, in that rip-off band-aid kind of way, and,

hopefully, gives a little hope to those who feel hopeless. Perhaps the most essential thing is that if I don’t laugh, I will cry.

And I REALLY HATE crying. So, here goes nothing; try to keep up; you may want to take notes!

It was January 2019. It was a snow day for my daughter, G, and my husband, D, and we were enjoying some rare family time. The white stuff was

piling up, and the wind was howling outside our windows. My daughter and I compared our reflections in the mirror above our fireplace, as my

mom and I did when I was young. When my daughter was done laughing at my reflection (insert eye roll here), I turned and took one step. It was

just one step down from the fireplace hearth, but this one step broke my ankle in 3 places and I now needed surgery. I remember sitting on the

floor right after I fell, convinced it couldn’t be that bad, I would just wrap it up in an ace bandage that I keep lying around for those “infrequent”

times when I sprain my ankle.

Denial Ain’t Just a River, Y’all!

So maybe I sprain my ankles a lot; let’s not start out judging right away, shall we? Once I had convinced myself everything was cool, I lifted my leg

off the ground, only for my ankle to hang loosely from my calf, like keys dangling from a keychain. I knew at that moment that this was not like

the other sprains I rested my head on my knees and began blubbering…loudly. I remember thinking, this is the WORST thing that could happen to

me. We were in the middle of selling our current home and purchasing a new home, and a bum leg was going to make that so much more

complicated! I hadn’t seen anything yet! (Foreshadowing for those of you keeping score.) A few weeks later, I received a metallic upgrade in the

form of a titanium plate and a few screws to repair my ankle. I was now bionic!

Picture it: the wind blowing through my dark hair as I look off into the sunset, standing strong and tall like only a 5-foot-2-inch woman can. With my hands on my hips, I am confident. I am assured that I can do this. I will walk again, and with my bionic leg, I will never have to worry about breaking my ankle again! The downside is that recovery was a long road that I had to hobble down. The most painful part of this journey was the eight weeks without the use of my left leg. During that time, we sold our home and moved into what I thought of as our “forever home.”

This was an incredibly poignant moment...

Thankfully, my mom and closest friends came and helped me pack up my house and recover. I couldn’t help but pack because of my injury, so I

directed traffic, and my family and friends did all the heavy lifting, literally. My injury sharpening my thoughts with precise clarity. I was able to

see clearly how truly blessed I am to have these people in my life. My family and best friend’s generosity overcame me without me asking or even

expecting it. They were immediately by my side, doing what needed to be done—helping me heal, helping me pack, and putting up with my angry

outbursts of frustration. Sometimes, I’m childish and immature…it happens. As much as I hate to admit it, #Shortfuse/nofilter became my tagline

for way too many years. Just as I was almost healed and re-learning to walk, they were by my side again when we had to put down our beloved

rescue dog, Suzie. She had been with us from the beginning, and letting her go was devastating. Although I was initially frustrated when my

husband insisted on immediately finding another dog, it ended up being a welcome distraction from my sadness. The loss of such an essential part

of our family was yet another unwelcome healing process I had to endure, and again, I was unsure how to navigate it.

Enter Huckleberry, our sweet yet quirky, lovable, neurotic, and crazy Yorkie/Lab mix.

(Yes, you read that correctly; I will share more on Huck later.)

I had high hopes for raising this puppy, and he quickly became like a therapy dog for me. Huckleberry filled a Suzie-sized hole in my heart.

As the summer of 2019 rolled around, I was finally cleared to walk without any restrictions and busied myself, making plans to transform our new

home into our forever home. Huckleberry, at only 8 weeks old, had a lot to learn, and I had hoped to receive help training him from D and G. Alas,

as I should have known, the training and cleaning up after our new puppy mainly fell to me. However, I still had my optimism. After all, the move

was complete, and I was walking!

I felt like I could breathe for the first time in a long time. We decided to spend our equity from selling our other home to fix up our in-ground pool

and pool yard. After all, this was our “forever home,” and we were looking forward to enjoying the beautiful backyard and pool. After the winter,

we survived, so why not focus on the fun first? As my family and I floated around in the pool on a sweltering early summer afternoon, the darkness

of the past 3-4 months that had felt like it would never end finally lifted. We laughed and splashed in our sparkling pool.

So, we had to cancel our Disney cruise that spring, and I have a six-inch scar on my ankle; who cares? Just look at where we are now. We were in

our beautiful new home, and it was just as I had always hoped and dreamed it would be. Sure, some improvements could be made, but we had our

whole lives to do that. This was it; I WAS FINALLY HOME. This home felt more like home than anywhere I had ever lived since my childhood

home. We did it!

This life was what I had dreamt of as a little girl, and it was finally mine.

I had finally found the happiness I didn’t know I was missing. Getting through that winter was the cure for my lack of contentment. The broken

ankle might have happened unexpectedly and was a painful reminder that I wasn’t who I wanted to be, but I was healed. Now, I have started a

new chapter in my fairy tale life. My life never felt much like a fairy tale, but now, I could see it had the potential to be good. Besides, fairy tales

aren’t real, and this life isn’t that bad. So, I compartmentalized my regrets and tried to focus on a bright future I could create. It was no surprise

that I didn’t recognize the light at the end of the tunnel, which was not the sun bouncing off the water splashing in our pool. It was another train

heading right for me…and I never saw it coming.

Stay tuned for what train is about to run me over next!

“About Me: Part Two - That Light? Yeah, It’s a Train…”