Oh hey. In case you haven't noticed, things changed a bit around here today. Hopefully you still recognize me after my recent face lift. I felt the itch recently to change the outward appearance of this blog to match what I'm feeling inside. I feel the need to explain, because that's just how things work around here.
I have always loved that each of our lives are stories. You know, we all have a story to tell--and I just love a good, solid story. I started this blog in 2007 because I felt like I had a lot of stories to tell. At the time, I had just moved, taken a new job and gotten married. Basically, everything in my life was changing simultaneously. I felt I needed therapy, because the contents of my brain were scattered on the floor. I actually went to therapy and a therapist told me there really wasn't anything wrong with me; I just needed an outlet to talk about my feelings. So, I stopped going to therapy and started a blog instead. Lucky for me, my blog has decided to waive the $30 co-pay.
In '07, I fell in love with the idea of survival. I was just a girl from the city, trying to survive life in the country, which often felt like a foreign country. In my mind, I had a lot of funny experiences and hilarious stories to tell. So, I told them here. As time went on, my life changed--I changed--and in turn, this space has also changed. I wasn't just surviving a new zip code anymore, I was desperately trying to survive my own life. When my husband and I were told in early 2010 that biological children were a slim possibility for us, survival took on a new meaning. I could feel my brain (and heart) was scattered on the floor all over again. This time, instead of going back to therapy, I started pouring out my heart here. Truthfully, it's the best therapy I could have asked for--having a place to be honest with myself is the best choice I've ever made. This blog is what got me through the hardest, most difficult days of my life.
Likewise, it is in this space that I have worked tirelessly to put that heartbreak behind me. I know it won't ever be behind me entirely, but sharing my story has helped to heal those broken places in this little heart of mine. No matter how many times I've been shown otherwise over the last two and a half years, I still believe that miracles are possible. This is, I believe, how my husband and I were able to open our hearts to domestic adoption. As difficult as it is to wait endlessly for our day to come, I know adoption is where we are meant to be. It's been 11 months of twiddling our thumbs, but some miracles are worth the wait.
So, when I think about what it means to have this blog, I still think about where I started years ago: survival. At the very core of who we are as human beings, we are all survivors. You and I both. It doesn't matter what we have survived--it just matters that we're still standing. Being a survivor or learning to survive manifests itself differently in each of our lives, but what matters is that we have lived to tell the tale of our journey. Sure, we have a few scars. Mine is 6 inches long and stretches across my belly. Maybe people can't see yours, but you know it's there. I hope you are as proud of yours as I am of mine, because I look in the mirror and am thankful to have something imperfect to remind me at the end of each day that I have survived.
I don't know where this old dirt road is going to lead me next, but that's OK. From where I stand in my black sequin dress in the middle of a field, I know I'm strong enough to take whatever is thrown my way next. I have survived.
“And I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means I survived.” - From the novel "Little Bee" by Chris Cleave