When I met you, I felt like I was finally home.

When you left, I remember feeling like I was losing the fairytale.  I couldn't fathom why life, which had finally smiled on me, wanted to take it away.  You were the only thing that I had ever felt sure of and the idea of losing you scared me..you had more of my heart than I even realized was there; I've never been afraid to lose anything before because I've never felt certain about anything or anyone.

Us, was the first time in my life I felt really happy.  You brought a sense of relief into my life with you.  I felt for the first time that this "you and me" thing could be something great--it could be real and it could be palpable.  We were not going to be a what if or a should be--you're my sigh of relief and happy dance.

Now, I'm almost in tears because I realize that I still am ridiculously happy with you--we still have a fairytale; it's just in the process of being written. It may not be the "easy" or "simple", traditional picket fence type of love story, but it is a page turner.  We will never be boring or predictable, our life together is an adventure and I'm ready for it all.  I'm not sure what the ending will be, but the beginning and middle have given me more love in one year than I've received in my entire life.

You've been my great beginning and I'm so inexplicably grateful for you.

I wanted to call you yesterday.

I wanted to call you yesterday.  I stopped my car just before the gate and I went to reach for my phone--my heart skipped a beat because I had so much I wanted to tell you.

It was the sharpest pain when I remembered your phone had been disconnected--you aren't here anymore.

In my mind, I'm sitting next to you on bent knees just outside on your patio.  The flowers are an unbelievably bright orange..especially with the sunlight hitting them.  There are a thousand things I need to say to you.  The one thing I cannot admit to you...in fear that you're going to be disappointed in me..is that I have been so sad lately.  I could never tell you that--you were always so happy.  You told me that every day was a good day, depending on how you looked at it.  How could I tell you that i've been a bystander in my own life lately? How could I tell you that I observe everything around me but I feel like a stranger is playing my part in conversation.  What would you tell me if I told you that I felt like I had lost myself recently?

The trouble is, you are always where I would go when I felt a little lost.  I could sit beside you and share your sunlight when mine had dimmed.

I wish I could just come sit beside you--I wish I could prick my fingers picking blackberries with you in oversized mud boots.  I wish I could have your presence and strength--I'm feeling a little broken and I'm having a hard time getting back up.  I have some sort of faceless enemy kicking me down--I just want to remember what it felt like to feel strong and confident.  To feel like your granddaughter.  I don't feel like her--I feel left behind.

Well, this is brutal.

I just keep crying.  At the oddest times.  Sunday night I cried blow drying my hair. It was one of those ridiculous outbursts.  I hate how much I miss you.  Tonight, I must've moved from sadness to anger--love is seemingly intertwined with grief.  I just haven't healed yet.

I just miss you--I got scared tonight that we're going to grow apart, you keep asking me "what else" in conversation and I flashback to my father and the void of nothingness we had to say to each other.  I don't know how to share my real feelings when they aren't ones that I want.  I resent being so, so sad that you aren't you are here.  Why am I not strong enough? Why am I not better at this?  I want you to be here so badly but I just need to accept you aren't going to be here.  Change is scary--the thought of losing you is scary.

I need a how to guide for loving someone. I don't want to dig my own grave. I don't want to be a Debbie Downer.  I want to be happy but it feels fake sometimes because I'm missing you and this is really hard.

Remember...

This life is what you make it. Not matter what, you're going to mess up sometimes, it's a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you're going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends - they'll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, somg go. The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they'll come and go too. And babve, I hate to say it, most of them - actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can't give up becuase if you give up, you'll never find your soul mate. You'll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn't mean you're gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don't, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life's a beautiful thing and there's so much to smile about.


"That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it's reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking." 


Remember: the time you feel lonely is the time you most need to be by yourself. Life's cruelest irony

Oh little heart.

I had to kick myself today.  Kick my own butt for feeling sorry for myself.  I'm in love--whattookyousolongithoughtyoudidn'texist love.  I haven't written in so long...too busy enjoying this life we've built.  We're going backpacking to Central America July 23rd-August 1st.  My mother is in panic.  Derek is paranoid about my luggage size and I'm READY.  I'm biting at the bits to get out and have an adventure.  I'm wishing this adventure didn't have such finality to it.

He got a job in LA--leaving on the 15th of August.  He's taking some chunk of my heart with him, more than I'd ever want to admit to anyone.  Somehow, over the past months I've opened myself up to love for the first time in my life--a real honesttogod vulnerability.  I'm open--a giant, gaping, open heart.  That's the catch to this whole love thing--someone else has the power to break it.  I'm a control freak so this idea just does not sit well with me.  I can't bear the sadness of potentially losing you--I argue with the universe that this just isn't fair.  Like one of the small children at work, I want to kick my feet and swing my arms in protest--not fair, not one little bit.  I've learned from watching the 5 year olds that this is an ineffective attempt--it never leads to anything other than a lecture or time out.  Resistance is futile.  So here I am, trying to embrace the truth that everything is change.  Our relationship has always given confidence to my stride, we're solid, and now we're going up in the air and I'm feeling a little lost.  I resent the truth of that statement. Then, there is the scarred over part of my heart that reminds me I can survive anything, any one, any challenge.  I'm fine.  I'm always fine.  It is a constant struggle between my honest side and my reinforced side.  There are very few moments where I can expose my honest side to you--you prefer it when I'm tough..when I'm the girl who can survive anything, even you.  I get that. Nobody wants to feel responsible for another person's well being.  You're not my whole world, but you've become an amazing part of it.  I, more than anyone, detest the couples that become dependent on each other--unable to do anything apart, where the "you" and "I" become "them." Inextricably linked.  That would never be me..or us.  I can be fine..great without you--but I am..my life is..better with you.

I always think of the quote from Catcher in the Rye.."Worry is like a rocking chair..it doesn't get you anywhere." I believe in this quote.  I think the same applies to fear or being scared.  I cannot be afraid to lose you.  I need to be reinforced, tough as nails, sure of my step regardless of what ground I'm walking on.  This fear of loss cannot define me for the next month.

"That's how you know a man is in love with you, when he's afraid of losing you."

Only time will tell.

The healthiest response to life is joy.

For now, I need to take ownership of myself and my accomplishments.  I'm so critical--never being content with where I am at.  Everything will be sorted out in time--here's to the unknown and being joyful not in spite of it, but because of it.  My grandmother would want me to smile and mean it.  Smile through it. 

Oh diary, I've missed you!

I swear I almost forgot my username and password.  Almost.

I had to write to record my most epic mini-crisis ever.  I had a complete break down.  It all started a few months ago with my new job....I'm running the show and I'm ex-haus-ted.  Last week I had a sinus infection and bronchitis at the same time...I couldn't take time off work.  Pathetic.  Tonight, I got to Derek's and I had to leave before we could go rock climbing (my first work out in two weeks because of illness)--just to return to work until 8:30.

I ended up back at his place, drinking a glass of wine instead of dinner.

Ultimately, I ended up standing in my kitchen ranting that I was angry. Pissed.  Irate.  I told Kristin I was feeling crazy and wanted to move to another country.

Have you ever felt so ridiculously crazy? I felt like one of the pint size 5 year olds at work having a tantrum.  I envisioned myself stomping and pouting.  I just wanted to be mad.  You want to laugh and cry at the same time.  I'm slightly disappointed and amused at myself.

Top 5:

1. I've been working 80 hours a week without overtime. Burnt out?
2. Derek is moving to LA in 5 weeks
3. I went to my grandmother's funeral this past weekend--my heart is aching.
4. Sinus infection + bronchitis + no sleep
5. Emptying out my grandmother's house..aching.


and number 6..just because
Sunday is Father's day--I wonder if I called you if you would change your mind. I still can't rationalize that I had a father for 21 years and then he just disappeared.  21 years.  21. We haven't spoken in four years.  Oh how much has changed--and yet, some part of me still misses you.

Why am I so damn lonely?

Ouch. I'm completely disconnected from everything going around me.

Do you ever feel like everything is going on around you--without you? I'm physically here, but I'm emotionally absent.  I'm somewhere else.  It's like my heart left me, it went on vacation and never came back.  It doesn't want to be with me. To go through this.

I have this deep, dark grief that is eating away at me.  It's sadness.  I went to Raven's last night for dinner with her grandmother.  It was a bittersweet double edged sword.  Two fold.  One hand, the last time I was at that house, was the night of the attack.  Other hand, Raven and her grandmother were going back and forth about the special bond between a grandmother and granddaughter--the ache in my chest was unparalleled.  I hate my drives.  I have no one to call.

It's like everything is back to normal but me.  Everything is the same but I'm different--even to myself.  I don't know why I feel so isolated.  I feel really, really lonely.  I'm trying not to--I feel like a little kid saying that.  I just feel like a puzzle that was split in half--i'm missing essential pieces.  I think I put up this deep wall between myself and other people when I'm upset.  At night, I have this anxiety in my chest.  I took six anti anxiety pills tonight and I still found myself on edge and frustrated.


I don't want to be alone and it seems like every weekend is a small battle to get through--how to keep myself from these thoughts.  I'm just inexplicably frustrated with everything.  Ick, ick, ick.

In these moments, I want security.  I want stability.  I want to be sure. I don't want everything to be up in the air.  I don't want to be a maybe. I don't want to be totally shutdown.

This is not about a beginning nor an ending. It's about the mysterious inbetween.

This is not about a beginning nor an ending. This is a glimpse into the complicated and rarely easy in between.  This is my painfully honest (incredibly humbling) record of my harrowing collisions with this crazy thing called life.  My story takes place between three dates: December 16, 2006; August 22, 2010; February 9, 2011.

Where is the beginning? The beginning of me, as I am now, would probably start junior year of college at University of Arizona on December 16, 2006.  My father, for lack of better words, broke up with me via e-mail.  I was alone the entire day: with my thoughts, my sadness, my fear--I had no solutions or coping mechanisms.  I was 20 and oblivious to how much sadness you could withstand.  If you've ever been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you, you will know that in the end  there comes a sort of silence. You breathe in and come to terms with your sadness--you strike a deal.  My negotiation was that I would never be helpless or unprepared again like I was that day.  Not to say that this "precautionary" emotional guard is only for relationships--it's for all possible upsets.

I've spent years wishing it was different, he was different, and that I was someone he wanted.  I mistakenly used to think his approval defined my value.   I could not fathom what was so awful about me that I was not worth loving.    Although time may heal wounds, it does not make them invisible..the deep wounds, the ones that hurt the most, leave scars.  In spite of wishing it was different, these scars on my heart are real--you cannot put something broken back together without the damage showing a little.  The scars, however ugly or large, become a part of you.  They compose the geography of your bones, the openness of your smile, and the thickness of your newly reinforced emotional wall.

You can only hope that someday, someone will see you--all of you--and think you're beautiful, not in spite of your scars, but because of them.

Flash forward to August 22nd, 2010.  I was in the midst of teaching English at Chaparral, finishing my final semester of Graduate school..and working at Boys and Girls Club.  Five hour energy was the only thing that made three hours of sleep feasible.  After a series of unfortunate events (namely, my bathroom ceiling caving in) I was staying at a friend's apartment in Tempe.

 It was just like any other Sunday.  We decided to run a few errands in the evening; as we went down the stairs, I kept repeating that I wanted to stay together.  I had a feeling.  This feeling led me to linger at the gas station, sitting in my car, watching the cars fly by in front of me on the road.  I got on the phone and put all my belongings away.  I walked up the stairs and my chest started pounding--everything felt wrong.  He was waiting at the top of the stairs, I ignored the alarm going off in my chest, not wanting to be paranoid.

He began screaming at me and trying to rush into the apartment.

 I finally made it in the door and locked him out behind me--I tried to rationalize that someone had just tried to attack me in the light of day.  Then the pounding started.  I called 911 and wedged my body up against the door screaming at him to go away--I was safe, the door was locked and dead bolted.   When the door started cracking, I told 911 I needed both hands to keep him out and dropped the phone.  The horror of his body coming through the wall and the door, the strength of his rage and the red in his eyes are things that I have tried to block out.  The feeling of utter defeat when no one in neighboring apartments came to help me.  My thoughts spooled like a tape, "This isn't real. This isn't real.  This is a nightmare.  This doesn't happen in real life," to "He's going to kill me. I don't want to die." It was that statement that gave me the surge of strength to escape.

This event stays with me, images that replay instantly when my eyes close.  It is humbling to be in a public place when something or someone triggers a flashback and I begin to shake, my heart thumping in  my ears.  I can't control it.

The event, was the only time I felt like a hero and a coward in the same situation.  I was asked to testify in court and my fear led me to hide behind a facade of words.  An attempt to recount the damage that had been done.  He is more than a criminal, a felony charge, a case of aggravated assault.  What happened to me is more than just a case number.  He changed my life forever--gave me an experience that makes running at night laughable, leaving a door unlocked unthinkable, and walking in parking lots unbearable. The person assigned to my case said, "Your impact statement should really emphasize how this experience has changed you." My computer screen sat blank for days.  I thought of the kids at work who so desperately wanted a hug that I couldn't seem to give them yet.

The humbling part of these "in between" moments is that they can leave you all banged up with no bandages.  You haven't been in the muck long enough to make sense of it, so all you can do is keep breathing and moving.  Sometimes, in the in between you lose your sense of self.  You lose confidence that everything is going to be okay--the light is somewhere, we just can't see it.   We become a stranger, an intruder, an unknown entity in our own body.


I did everything I could to dive back into my "life."  I went back to work and teaching the next day.  I counted to 10 and repeated:

Block it out. Seal it shut.  Lock the lid. 

Forget it. Forget. Him. 

It. Never. Happened. 

Lost in the middle, I failed to make a place in my life for this aberration.  I did not want this scar.  I did not want the event to become a permanent part of me.  There it sat, a large addition to my running list of emotional baggage.  Smited. I envisioned what it would be like to go on a first date with someone,

"Hi, I'm Courtney.  If I seem a little off sometimes it's because I have post traumatic stress and no time to deal with my feelings because I'm determined to finish grad school with a 4.0 while working 60 hours a week."

Quite a catch.  At this point, not even the likes of Millionaire Matchmaker or E-Harmony could help me. I was land locked in limbo.

I knew things were bad when I stopped eating lunch to have more time to work.  Rushing to school in the morning, I had an epiphany on the phone with Jamie, "But..If I didn't have to eat, I'd have so much more time!" -- Leftovers turned into sandwiches which digressed into yogurt and then eventually whittled away to a protein shake.  I knew things had to change when I became the "dealer" of 5-hour energy.  I was like a power-walking advertisement for the stuff, completed by a subtle eye twitch from an inexcusable caffeine addiction. I kept boxes in my desk--coaches and teachers sought me out in the early morning hours when the halls were quiet.  I was "that guy."

My mental intervention wasn't lifetime worthy--but it happened on October 25th in the form of a simple website that had a 10 step cure that brought me back from the trenches:

1. Assess just how busy you’re willing to be.

New research indicates that a key indicator of happiness is the distance between the hours you’d like to work and the hours you actually do. If you don’t want to work more than 40 hours per week because you have a hobby you’re passionate about, but you’re working over three hours more than that, you will inevitably feel dissatisfied.

2. Consider whether your schedule conflicts with your priorities.

When you have internal or external conflict, it’s difficult to maintain your center and sense of joy. If fitness is a priority but you’re working 60 hours a week, leaving you little time to exercise, you will feel conflicted. Even if you want to keep working hard, you’ll feel frustrated that you’re not meeting your own needs.

3. Be sure your goals align with your values.

Most people would prefer not to overwhelm their lives with work, but oftentimes we push ourselves because we have our eye on the prize, so to speak. There’s nothing wrong with having a dream and working toward it; but if you’re going to sacrifice much of your now for later, be sure you’re really headed where you want to go.

4. Find joy in the way things are.

Oftentimes when we’re busy, we’re fixated on the way things can be, should be, or will be on the other side of overexertion. It’s all too easy to get caught up in a race toward some fantasy tomorrow that inevitably will fall short of your expectations. Someday dreams usually do because they’re more about avoiding the present than building the future.

5. Make time for relationships.

Studies have shown that the quality of our relationships correlates directly with our overall sense of happiness. Sometimes while we’re working toward a larger life we forget to do the things that remind us we’re part of something larger than ourselves. We need meaningful contact with other people to feel fully alive. We need interaction, engagement, and the time to just be in the presence of other.

Make time for people, even if it’s just a quick meal. It’s worth sacrificing your working lunch to experience life outside your office.

6. Allow yourself completely disconnected time.

We all need complete breaks from work where we can be fully present in something else. Whether it’s an afternoon at the movies, a yoga class, or a complete day and night of relaxation, compartmentalizing life for a while can be rejuvenating.

7. Say no liberally.

Saying no is hard when you want to please people. You might assume only spineless, needy people struggle with this, but the truth is we all do. None of us want to disappoint people, and on some level we all want approval.

Just like on airplane you need to put your own mask on before helping someone else, we need to take care of our needs before we can even begin to be valuable for other people. We need time to decompress, do what we love, and just plain call the shots, without reacting to other people’s needs.

8. Prioritize rest.

In a perfect world, we’d all sleep eight hours a night. We’re best equipped to handle life’s challenges when we’re not fatigued. But sometimes that’s not an option. When you are exhausted, take care of yourself using these tips to function better when you’re tired.

To the best of your ability, take time to nap, meditate, or practice deep breathing. A past yoga instructor once told me a certain pose was the equivalent of a good night’s sleep. I don’t know if I believe that entirely, but I do know certain yoga poses help me shut off my mind to fall asleep sooner at night.

9. Expel less mental energy.

This is a good practice in life in general—one I need to constantly work at—but it’s especially helpful when you’re busy. If your circumstances seem a little overwhelming, your inner state may start to parallel that. You may over-analyze, worry about every little decision, stress over whether you’re doing the right things.

Trust your gut. Learn and adjust as you go, but give yourself a break from the constant overanalyzing—whether the meeting went well enough, or your report was detailed enough, or if you sales calls are compelling enough. Don’t make yourself do the work twice—once in the doing and again in the rehashing.

10. Embrace the chaos.

Nobody forces us to live busy lives. We do it because we want to feel a sense of purpose, commitment, and accomplishment. You may have to maintain a full schedule out of obligation—kids to feed or loans to pay off—but there are a lot of things we could sacrifice if we truly wanted a simpler life.

If you’ve chosen to do various different things, engage with many people, and strive toward numerous goals, realize a lot will feel out of control at times. The more elements you introduce to your life, the more unpredictable the days will be. Sometimes the uncertainty is both the most exciting and terrifying part. Choose to focus on the former. Why fight the game you’ve chosen to play?

After everything, the universe tried to make amends with me--I did graduate with that 4.0 and I also landed my ideal job.  My mantra changed from denial to positivity, my mother told me the night of the attack, "You can either choose to be a victim or choose to move on." I moved on. 

Transition to February 9th.  After a week of strange conversations with my grandmother, I got a call that she had suffered a massive stroke.  The next day I learned that the strongest woman I had ever met would not recover this time.  My heart sank to the floor and I think it might still be there somewhere in the lobby of my work.  One of those moments where you nod your head but no words come out of your mouth.  Reality started to hit me and I found myself scrambling not to fall apart.  If I went home, I would fall apart. If I was alone, I'd fall apart.

My grandmother has been the most important person in my life. She's the voice on the other end of the line that reminds me what life is really about, she's my compass and without her I already feel so lost.  

She passed away on Valentine's Day.  It's always been my favorite holiday, for no real reason other than I think there is something wonderful about finding a small way to say I love you to the people you care about.  I haven't let myself cry yet...partially because my gut tells me this is not the time for tears.  This is the time to celebrate the life of a woman who painted the town red, lit up every space with her smile, and made each person she spoke to feel as if they were the most important person in the room.   Her name was Estelle but she went by a nickname, Polly.  Oddly, for someone who didn't even like her own name she was insistent that my name would be Estelle ( I kind of wish it was..).   She drank whiskey, wore red lip stick, and had an unforgettable laugh (followed by a snort and, 'I love it! I love it!').  She drove like a bat out of hell, once she crashed into a jewelry store.

Maybe that is a good place to start when I tell you about my grandmother.  She had a yellow convertible.  Bright yellow.  When I was a kid, I would sit in the black leather and pretend I was driving fast along the coast--just like my grandmother in a fashionable hat and scarf.  I loved being her passenger.  She drove into a jewelry store in her little town by the river and managed to have new friends by the end of the collision and a brand new ring.  My own mother shook her head and whispered, "that's grandma for you."  She was larger than life.  She's been my world for the past 24 years.

Driving with my grandmother was always an experience.  Every one in my family has the turkish evil eye in their car; I was always mortified as my grandma would flash the "evil eye" to people who cut her off.  Oddly enough, I too have one in my car now and smile every time I see it (I have yet to flash it..but maybe in her honor I'll start).  She used to pick us up from the airport and I would itch in excitement, thinking about all the adventures we were about to have.   As a pint sized person, I spent my days writing stories, picking blackberries, sizzling snails with salt, making bouquets of flowers, stomping on apples in the orchard, digging for gold in the creek, climbing trees and playing dress up in the world's most fantastic closet.  My grandmother has wonderful stories of her travels.  She has been all over the world--she even went to the Amazon.  Her home was filled with special pieces from all over the world--she really did this life thing right.

 She never lived in the in between, she lived only in the now.  

She once told me (over a glass of bourbon when discussing law school and life), that if I was able--I should get married atleast twice.  She said that each marriage is like a life.  Experience as many different types of life as you can ( my mother still refutes her saying this..but it's delightfully true).  Equally entertaining was another late night when I inquired about her cheetah print bed sheets, she replied with her infamous smirk and a laugh, "Well, at my age you need some excitement in the bedroom."  When she was in Egypt, she rode a camel in a pencil skirt and heels.  She is fabulous.

My grandmother always told me two things:

1. Everyday is a good day depending on the way you look at it

and

2. "Watch out for the other guy" when discussing driving...and life. 

People have told me to distract myself, to keep busy.  I've tried.  Tonight was the first night since the 9th that I've been all alone.  What I've come to realize is that grief is isolating and lonely. It doesn't go away; it's yours, step for step, breath for breath.   Grief is forever--I will never stop grieving because I will never stop loving the people I've lost. Grief and love are seemingly conjoined, they are not mutually exclusive.  Like our scars, our grief stays with us..but here's hoping it can be beautiful too.

I wish my story could be wrapped up in a neat bow--with an overarching theme, witticism and life lesson, but the truth is, as I get older--I realize I don't have much of anything figured out.  Both unfortunately and fortunately...the answers are not in the back of the book of life.  Here's hoping for cliff notes.

This is not the time for tears.  This is the time to celebrate the life of a woman who painted the town red, lit up every space with her smile, and made each person she spoke to feel as if they were the most important person in the room.  There are very few people in this world who can be picking snails off flowers in their garden one moment, and then throwing a chic cocktail party the next; toasting with Mint Juleps underneath the summer stars.  Her name was Estelle but she went by a nickname, Polly.  I never knew who they were talking about at her garden parties.  She drank whiskey, wore red lip stick, and had an unforgettable laugh (followed by a snort and, 'I love it! I love it!').  She drove like a bat out of hell, once into a jewelry store.

Maybe that is a good place to start when I tell you about my grandmother.  She had a yellow convertible.  Bright yellow.  When I was a kid, I would sit in the black leather and pretend I was driving fast along the coast--just like my grandmother in a fashionable hat and scarf.  I loved being her passenger.  She drove into a jewelry store in her little town by the river and managed to have new friends by the end of the collision and a brand new ring.  My own mother shook her head and whispered, "that's grandma for you."  She was larger than life.  She's been my world for the past 24 years.

Driving with my grandmother was always an experience.  Every one in my family has the turkish evil eye in their car; I was always mortified as my grandma would flash the "evil eye" to people who cut her off.  Oddly enough, I too have one in my car now and smile every time I see it (I have yet to flash it..but maybe in her honor I'll start).  She used to pick us up from the airport and I would itch in excitement, thinking about all the adventures we were about to have.   As a pint sized person, I spent my days writing stories, picking blackberries, sizzling snails with salt, making bouquets of flowers, stomping on apples in the orchard, digging for gold in the creek, climbing trees and playing dress up in the world's most fantastic closet.  My grandmother has wonderful stories of her travels.  She has been all over the world--she even went to the Amazon.  Her home was filled with special pieces from all over the world--she really did this life thing right.  After I graduated from U of A, my grandmother pulled out the first story I ever wrote, entitled "The Ugliest Girl In The Whole Entire World." This girl had green vomit breath and scraggly teeth.  It was seven pages long and typed on her old school typewriter.  She went to U of A and took pride in stating that she was the oldest living alumnae--she really wanted to go to homecoming.

My grandmother's estate was called Seven Gates.

As far as I've ever been concerned, the world could cease to exist beyond them.   Everything I needed was there.  My grandmother created the garden from nothing.  She had three rose gardens and endless nooks and crannies filled with exotic flowers.  I was Alice in Wonderland.  Nothing could hurt me behind those white gates.  As a little girl, I pictured myself getting married here.  She once told me (over a glass of bourbon when discussing law school and life), that if I was able--I should get married atleast twice.  She said that each marriage is like a life.  Experience as many different types of life as you can ( my mother still refutes her saying this..but it's delightfully true).  Equally entertaining was another late night when I inquired about her cheetah print bed sheets, she replied with her infamous smirk and a laugh, "Well, at my age you need some excitement in the bedroom."  When she was in Egypt, she rode a camel in a pencil skirt and heels.  She is fabulous.

You know when people tell you to close your eyes and picture yourself in your "happy place"? These memories of her and the garden are it.  Forever and always.

So as difficult as it is to think about waking up tomorrow to my new reality, I know that I must do it and do it with a smile.  My grandmother always told me two things:

1.Everyday is a good day depending on the way you look at it

and

2. "watch out for the other guy" when discussing driving...and life.

So despite this hurt in my heart--I'm going to celebrate the love she gave me to me and everyone she knew on the day she passed away.  Valentine's Day will always be my most favorite day...it's about telling the people you care about you love them.  What an incredible woman..what an incredible life..how lucky I am to have been loved by you.

What a terrible day...

You know those mornings where you wake up and you just have this gnawing ache? I couldn't shake it.  The sun was shining...the weather was warm...life was in motion...and I was just anxious. My whole drive to work this morning I was biting my lips, trying to leave the feeling behind in my rear view mirror.

My boss was gone today, so I was in charge of running our full time meeting.  My morning was already off to a rocky start (my overnight order ended up not going through because they didn't receive a shipment...) and I left my phone out during the meeting in case my boss called me.  We have been trying to hire someone and after tons of glitches, today was the day it was supposed to happen.  Needless to say, paperwork got lost and we started back at ground zero.  Pointless except I never have my phone out.  Two employees were out and I was waiting on their "confirmation" of illness via text.

The last number I expected on my caller ID was my grandma.

I ultimately ended up answering, debating the etiquette of taking a personal call during a meeting.  My grandmother had had a stroke shortly before and had been taken in an ambulance.  My heart sank to the floor and I think it might still be there somewhere in the lobby.  One of those moments where you nod your head but no words come out of your mouth.  Reality started to hit me and I found myself scrambling to not fall apart.  If I went home, I would fall apart. If I am alone, I'll fall apart.

I've been distracting myself all day.  The truth is, i'm terrified that my grandmother is gone.  I can't confront that just yet.  I'm terrified. She's the most important person. She's the voice on the other end of the line that reminds me what life is really about, she's my compass and without her I already feel so lost.  This horrible, horrible gnawing ache.

Derek came over to cook dinner and I found myself prepping the food and dropping things all over the floor.  I forgot the main ingredient I needed, even though I went to the store to get it,  and ended up having to message to pick it up for me.  Immediately after, I spilt my vitamins all over the floor and down my shirt.  I wanted to just sit on the floor and cry in an absolute tantrum.  In my desperate attempt to function, I didn't acknowledge what my body was so obviously trying to tell me--you're not fine. This is not fine.  I didn't cry cutting onions, I didn't cry when I overcooked the noodles.  I didn't cry when he asked me how I was doing.

I started crying over the wrong DVD.

I picked up a blu-ray DVD instead of a normal one, and I sat on the floor and looked up at him and just started to cry.  It was a humbling moment. I tried to stop crying as soon as I could muster up the strength, and I asked him, "are you every afraid if you let yourself cry you'd never be able to stop?"

Sometimes that's my fear.  That if I really let myself cry about my grandmother, the attack, my dad...I'd never stop.

 I ate my feelings today.  I swallowed my grief in an array of sugary treats.  My sobs were suppressed with two (three) miniature pink donuts from Starbucks.  My depression was smooshed in between two graham crackers and nutella.  My eyes ache.

Armed with lackluster emotional coping mechanisms, I turned to the Dalai Lama.  Tonight's chapter was coincidentally 'Facing Suffering,' this is the advice that i'm applying as ointment to my heart break:

"It's no use to worry too much, and if I really loved these people, then I must fulfill their wishes with a  calm mind.  So I try my best to do that.  So I think if you've lost someone who is very dear to you, that's the proper way to approach it.  You see, the best way to keep a memory of that person, the best remembrance, is to see if you can carry on the wishes of that person."  I don't remember my grandmother ever not being positive or smiling, 'every day is a good day depending on how you look at it.'

That horrible, horrible gnawing ache.

My mom offered to buy me a ticket to come this weekend.  I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to face this. I want to be there for my grandmother, but I don't think I could handle her not remembering me or being able to talk to me.  I'm afraid I'll vomit or start sobbing uncontrollably.  I'm afraid.  I'm afraid, I'm afraid.  I wish I could press a button that could heal everything.  Facing suffering.  The hardest, most daunting thing.  I just keep thinking, 'carry on the wishes of that person'...my grandmother is tough as nails, capable of anything.  Some part of me knows that I have no choice but to be strong enough to face this, to deal with this, to confront this sadness.  I just don't want to. I don't want it to be real.  I want it to be a bad dream, when I wake up tomorrow...it'll all just be a dream.