Yeah, I admit it. I can be a bit dramatic. Things that most people let roll off their back I suffer over. I'm not the kind to stay up all night with worry, but I definitely take too much to heart and let things bother me.
But then again, I can also be a bit of a Pollyanna. Hopelessly optimistic. I've been very lucky in my life, avoiding any major tragedies (knock wood), so who am I to complain?
Then something comes along that literally brings me to my knees. It's why this blog sat dormant for so long, even during another contentious campaign. Believe me, I had plenty of opinions I expressed (just ask my friends and family on Facebook!) but I had no energy left to write any more as I faced the biggest challenge of my life.
And here I go -- with maybe Irish guilt? -- making excuses that it really hasn't been that bad. Surely not as scary as our friends whose daughter has leukemia. Certainly not as bad as the friends whose daughter almost lost her liver in a suicide attempt. Parents face much worse trials every day. I should be grateful, right?
I am. Especially for my husband who is a rock (though he will say this has been the hardest thing, too). To the six of my children (and one great son-in-law) who have been witness to things they never should have, and have helped out and comforted me at times when it should have been the other way around. And to the family and friends who have offered their their prayers and good thoughts.
But I also know that this takes a toll on me every day. Every day that my daughter is away -- even though I know it's because she is getting the care she needs -- I feel the loss of her. How can I do anything but concentrate on getting her better?
And yet, it has become clear that I need to refocus some energy. I have been working out and putting my house in order, literally and figuratively, but I also need a creative outlet.
And so I'm back. Ker-splash... again.