I am going to be 33 on the 18th. My dear friend Erika informed me that the double number years are the luckiest (ex., 11,22,33,44,55, etc.).

I am not sure I believe her but I am holding onto that!

Every year when I am about to up my count it always causes me to reflect on where I have gone and what I have accomplished.This year hasn’t been that great. The last six have been pretty bad but the last three have been really rough. Having a disease isn’t fun but especially not fun when no one can figure out what is wrong with you. It has been a long hard road but I finally have my hair back and the medication seems to be keeping me pretty well off.

On that note, I am ready to live again.

Yes I have some extra baggage since I got sick. Not only the physical but mental kind. I weigh more than I used to and I plan to try to rectify that. But more deeply I admit I am wounded a bit. And angry. From employers, to friends, to family, these last few years of illness have taken their toll. I have lost friends and jobs and for a while there I lost myself.

But I feel like that is over. Not that I will never feel bad again but I feel that just KNOWING what it is and how to fight it makes a big difference. That it will pass. Before I felt like I was swinging in the dark fighting an unknown enemy that no one else believed existed.

I hope this upcoming year brings happiness. New experiences. Health and strength. A wonderful job. I hope I read a lot of wonderful books. See and meet a lot of fabulous people. Sing good songs. Hear great music. Maybe get a tattoo. Visit my family. Take a trip. Ride on a train. Sail on a boat.

I am excited. For the first time in countless days I am excited to be alive.

I feel like I am about to embark on a very important stage of my life.


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