I’m happy today. Something I’ve always wanted to do actually happened. I’ve been published.
I suppose it’s not quite how I pictured it. I always wanted to write a book. Growing up I would write down stories and fill up notebooks with my imagination and dreams.
As I grew older I suspected I would write something funny or snarky even. I’m very rarely serious and I’m quick to scoff. I’m pretty sure that Darcy knew what sarcasm meant before she was 3.
Instead I find myself writing about the death of my son. Still sounds surreal to write some 2+years later and it’s been the topic of my blog!
Having not really worked since the accident, I’ve forgotten what a good feeling it is to meet a tangible goal. But this was a life goal! Not at all how I pictured it.
I never set out to share any of this. I’ve found that by opening up here though, I get to let a little of the crazy out. I have the ability to get it out of my head.
There are days now when I look at someone and wonder ‘did they read what I posted last night?’ in a panic. It’s hard for me to share so much, but I feel so much better after I do. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve opened my diary for the world to see and it’s overwhelming. I just try to remember that this is part of my grief process. This is my way to deal. I might not tell you I’m having a bad day, but I will post about it here.
It’s a weird thing to be excited about being published, considering what I write about. It comes with guilt, but that’s ok. I wouldn’t have chosen this topic for anything. I wish I could write about anything but, or maybe nothing at all.
I’m happy to feel some true happiness again. To let it wash over me like warm sunshine. I’m happy that it was something that I did, a direct result of me. My kiddos make me happy everyday, but this was about me. It’s a great feeling to accomplish one’s dreams.