It didn’t start so pretty.
In fact, that year got about as ugly as I imagined life could get.
Not on the surface. I mean, on the surface, my life looked dandy. I was married to a solid and supportive man, had an awesome grown son, was physically in about the best shape I’d ever been in, had two books published recently and more in the works, was financially well off, traveling between a beautiful high mountain home in Colorado and a romantic remote getaway in Patagonia, Argentina…
So really, what could possibly be wrong?
At least that’s how I felt.
So that’s how it was.
In that one year, I almost lost my marriage, felt disconnected with my son, found myself without a home, had no known point and purpose therefore no reason to get out of bed in the morning, and got myself in the worse shape physically I think I’d ever been in. And yeah, it went down hill from there. About as low and lost as I ever imagined I’d never be.
But those are just details. My story. No doubt, you have your own. And it’s probably equally confusing and crazy.
What we go through, so primal and powerful and intense and life changing, is something we are raised to believe we don’t talk about, don’t share our stories, don’t discuss in public, try our darndest to hide, ignore when we can or medicate if we can’t, and most important, just do our best to get over it in one piece. It’s this deep, dark little secret of our society that we’d rather not have exposed.
Looks to me like the wind just blew the window open and whipped the curtain aside…