If you knew my life story, you would probably ask me how I manage to get out of bed each day. I am not sure you would even believe my story, but “the story,” is NOT the story. Those are things that happened to me.
The story is that everything that happened only served to break me open and make me so appreciate of love. It allowed me to see beauty where others do not, to see hope where others may not look. I am grateful for my life. I really am, even when I sometimes have to administer first aid to my scabs that life can sometimes pick at.
I embrace joy. I am a happy person. I have been blessed with a sense of humour and family that makes me laugh.
It helps to pull me back from the edge. I recognize myself being off kilter when that joy is gone and I know I have to do everything I need to restore it.
Joy is what allows me to keep doing, even when I am exhausted. It is what draws me to life, even when I wanted more than anything to end it all. It is what draws me to people and speaks to me of hope even in the darkest, seeming impossible, situations. I always believe there are answers.
But most of all, joy has taught me about light and love, and I know that everything else is an illusion.
I don’t mind that people think I am strange, or that I have been accused of being an idealist.