A Million Stories


On Monday, October 22nd, 2012, I signed a contract for a new car. My bug, the previously-repossessed car I’ve spoken of so many times before, was facing major repairs, and the dollar signs I was facing didn’t make sense. My car had reached over 100,000 miles and was almost 6 years old…adult decisions aren’t always fun, but I’m almost 30.  It was with a heavy heart that I traded in my redemption-worthy vehicle for more reliable, less sentimental one. It’s red. It’s bigger. It’s more ‘mature’ than the other. While I cried walking out of the dealership with the new keys (sometimes it’s hard to let go of the things we love), I’m experiencing great progress: for three years since I left Mike, I haven’t been lend-worthy. That changed for me this week. Progress is good.

On Wednesday, October 24th, 2012, I took bravery on a road trip. 125 miles from home, I shared my testimonial with 75 college students at a small, private university. It was the first time I’ve taken the stories of my blog and shared them in a real-life setting, and this moment is a proud one. As the only presenter, I spent 45 minutes (sans written word…balls to the wall, people), and spoke of a life I once lived, and then was taken from me, and then of survival, and then of recovery. I went by myself, a clear indication that I’m strong enough to stand on my own feet now, and I nailed it. In fact, I spoke on the behalf of an organization (sorority), and they were so pleased with my performance and proud of my words they’ve asked me to become a member. I didn’t know you could become a sorority girl at the age of 29, but new lessons are always so rewarding.

I could tell you a million stories about my life since I last posted, all of them covered with silk bows.

And the boy, well, he’s my rock. I’ve navigated fear and doubt and love in the same day, sometimes in the same hour, and he stood (and still stands) on the other end, smiling at me, saying, “Welcome back, baby. I knew you could do it.”

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