No words

Odd title for a blog post wouldn’t you say?  But I legitimately could not put into words how these last few weeks have felt, the awakening I feel like I’ve started to undergo.  I still sit here wondering how to put any of this all into words.

I started walking on September 13th and it’s been a slow recovery – almost a month already and I still have days where I don’t want to move, but in reality I haven’t stopped moving since getting back on my feet.  Spending 6+ weeks reliant on others, not being able to walk and having the scare of a blood clot – taught me, for the first time in my life, what patience really is.  I learned to quell my anxiety and to be confident in who I was.

I’ve gained weight during the injury which sucks – no other way to say it, but you know what, I’ll get that taken care of when I’m fully back into my work out habits and until then, I still feel ok about me and I can be unhappy with certain parts of my body without actually disliking who I am.

I was lucky enough to represent Pitt during homecoming week at alumni events, to meet people I wouldn’t think I’d get a chance to.  I’m part of an amazing group putting on a wonderful conference next week, I’m officially mentoring graduate and undergraduate students and I feel like I can finally own who I am.

Today, Matthew Mayfield released his new album Recoil.  The album is deep, at times dark, and yet in so many ways full of hope and honesty.  I cried as I listed to some of the tracks, because I’ve always advocated that music is one of the most healing things to exist and that certainly doesn’t change with this album. It’s salt in the wounds followed up with a sip of bourbon that hugs your heart on the way down.

On Monday, I will see three women who spent 15 years working with my father.  One of who was the person who, unbeknownst to her at the time, told me that my father had died.  And looking back, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.  I cry just thinking about it – so I fully plan to be a disaster when I see them but I can’t begin to imagine how healing this will be.  I have not seen or spoken with them in almost 14 years, since my dad died.  As time goes on and I feel like the memories of him fade and fall further away, I feel blessed to be able to have an opportunity to spend time with people that saw him day in and day out for years.

Life is good.  And there’s nothing wrong with saying that a good life has it’s obstacles and sometimes makes you doubt yourself, but really, life is good.  I can’t really deny that anymore.  Instead it’s time to embrace it.

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