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if year one was pain, year two is exhaustion.  it is weird being in these moments now, where everything is still so clear and fresh, and every moment is thought back as "this time last year, this is how much pain i was in still" "this time last year, i was doing this"

last year at this time, i was staring at these future moments with envy.  never in my life had i wanted to fast forward a year so badly.  and all of a sudden, i made it and like a marathon runner over the finish line, my body seems to have collapsed.  i have multiple health issues going on, my blood levels are off, i am exhausted at all times.  all of a sudden, my neurological and physical systems have caught up with my emotional and the battle is still brutal.

there is so much i want to accomplish, but these whispers of doubt are still finding their way into my head.
there is so much i can offer but i am exhausted running down avenues of sharing
there is so much i can teach but i still have to heal


i am still fighting the urge to run.  there is a huge part of me that no longer wants to make a home, anywhere.  right? when you've seen one burn to the ground it's hard to be like "well let's pour energy into that again"  there's part of me that wants to belong to no one, to be with no one, to live in anonymity.

i don't have a problem sharing my story with strangers, it's when i run into you again and again and again and i let you know other parts of my life.  like what i feel like now, how it looks when i parent my kids, the fact that i am struggling with my body image and gaining weight.  that's when it's difficult for me.  and now i am a year out, and the roots are starting again, and it's uncomfortable and disconcerting and scary.

and then i realize that i already belong to somebody.  and that i have been given two reminders on earth of that relationship.  addy and lane deserve a present.  they deserve a mom that can honor the past and hold the present close.  they deserve a mom that isn't running from ghosts.  they deserve a mom that can teach them to shut down the voices in their heads.  they deserve me at my best.

and let me tell you, if you scroll through my feed and my stories and you think "wow she is inspirational" let me tell you that's true.  but if you think for a second that there aren't days when addy has to come over and pat my hand and tell me "don't worry, we'll die someday and see them again," if you think for a second that there aren't times when my boyfriend has to hold me while i cry about my husband who is no longer here, if you think for a second that the pain is diminished, if you think for a second that i am strong all the time, you are sorely mistaken.

year two is here, but it is still a mother-fucking battle.

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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 …