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limits, firm and soft.

last year i wrote about how i almost wished for scars from this journey, a physical rendering of how much pain i had endured.

over the weekend, i dropped my phone in the atlantic ocean, of course i did.  and so, i had a backup right?  jim and i had gotten brand new phones right before... right before everything.  and i've had his phone, just the same as it was when he was alive.  it was one of the last very physical remnants of his life.  i knew, i knew it had to be backed up, to be erased and then i could transfer my stuff to it.  i asked my boyfriend to do it, this impossible task of seeing years of memories.

i was laying on my bedroom floor, petting my dog, getting ready, 1 2 3 for the wave.  he came in and held me while it crashed and as i laid there in a very physical and real pain, i thought to myself, i remember when i felt like this almost all the time.

year two... year two is interesting.  i am exhausted almost all the time.  the pure stamina and adrenaline that kept me going that first year has depleted.  and part of me feels guilty, guilty when i drop my kids off and come back and crash.  year one was pain, year two is complete exhaustion.  and it's better, right?  i mean, it is better, i am better.  slowly.  but it's still damn difficult.

the correlation between physical and emotional trauma is so real.  i feel guilty because i feel like there's no reason for me to be exhausted.  like if i had been in a car accident, or a surgery, or a cancer treatment, then it would be ok, but to be exhausted because in a matter of eight weeks, i delivered a baby via c-section, watched her die, and had my husband die?  no that's not ok.

this world is so caught up, so caught up on meaningless shit.  and it makes me feel so guilty sometimes.  when all i really need to do is focus on my healing so i can provide a mom that is patient, a mom that is kind, a mom that has energy for her children.  when all i need to do is focus on my healing, so i can use my message to help, to heal others, to get my message out there.

money is as money is.  but let me tell you, you don't take any of it with you.

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reflection.

i watched a video that my iPhone made, a video of 2016.  and it had just all of these beautiful and painful moments just wrapped into this four minute video.

the depth of my pain this year has been, at times, unbearable to the point where i wished for death.

but i saw so much smiling in those videos.  so many sweet moments and so many memories that happened when i was in a fog that felt all encompassing.



this year i felt the church's love in a way i have never before felt
this year i was able to take my kids on a disney cruise because of my co-workers at carters and the fundraiser they did for me
this year i was able to move because people came and packed and loaded me and helped with the cost of moving
this year my kids had a play set built for them while they were in another state
this year we imposed on people over and over again with our loud, yelling and crying little family of three
this year my daughter made beautiful friendships because people weren't afraid to reach …