I loved it all.

There’s this friend I have who is awesomely blunt. He keeps me in check and doesn’t let me whine and doesn’t tolerate when I fish for compliments.

Lately, I’ve been very complain-y. I’m in three classes in grad school, working full-time, and trying to contribute to life and love as much as the rest of them and it’s just so hard! [see? this is me complaining.]

About a month ago, whilst complaining, aforementioned friend looked at me and said…

– I feel like I just read an article about how you’re glad to be alive.

Touché.

I am. I am. I am. Is this me telling myself to be more thankful? Maybe.

Even today, in an email, I wrote to a friend…

and wow, ugh, yes, I too, I am always oscillating. sometimes within hours, hardcore.
why the f–k am I going to school? why am I sitting at a desk all day? why did I think I could do something with my life? for this world? 
and then hopefully followed by inspiration and encouragement.
but sometimes it takes a while.

How quickly my lust for life grows cold.

And then, tonight, I found this website: The Battle We Didn’t Choose.

The Battle We Didn't Choose _ wull hay

You must read the Valentine’s blog entry.

The last paragraph:

Before going to sleep Jen and I used to ask each other what the best and worst part of the day was, choosing to tell the best part last so we could fall asleep happy. The night we came home from the hospital after being told that Jennifer’s liver was failing and she didn’t have long to live, I asked Jen to tell me what she loved most about the day, which we had spent with family and a few close friends. Jennifer thought for a moment then looked through my eyes and into my soul. She said, “I loved it all.”

I just began weeping at that last line. I’m crying again.

There’s almost nothing I can find to express how this site has affected me. I’m embarrassed by my soul and encouraged by the power of grateful love.

[and some songs.]

[i loved it all.]

you’re going to be okay, friend.

[coffee, coffee, smoothie, coffee, wine, tea. repeat.]

[and music. some real good music. played loud. I will share my faves right now throughout this post.]

because I wanna be awake for this.
this time of year is amazing.
the sun is here. the water is alive.

so many exciting things happening in life.
but everything feels like a mess.
a beautiful mess, if you will.

there are still things I very much want to remember from the time around my accident.
[please excuse me for constantly talking about that time.
I told a friend recently that my accident, my incident, weirdly feels like a heartbreaking break-up.
you don’t want to talk about it, but you only want to talk about it.
you’re quick to blame your weaknesses, your faults, on what happened.
everything relates back to it. it tries to consume you.
and you have to be careful, because suddenly something will hurt that you forgot was still there.]

during my first real outing after the accident, about four days of being in bed, I accompanied evan to the grocery store.
I walked around clung to him, staring at people staring at me, my face.
but then they would look away. avoid me at all cost.
it was a weird feeling.
that horrible feeling that everyone is talking about you.
you’re embarrassing.
you’re different.
you’re broken.
at the grocery store.

then we were standing picking out yogurt when evan remembered that he forgot something.
he left.
I stood there looking at the cheese, wondering how long until I can eat nachos again.
a woman, very concerned, walked up and put her hand on my arm…

– what happened to you??

– I was in a bad ski accident, but I’m going to be alright.

– Oh, well I’m so glad you’re going to be okay, friend.

and then she just walked off.

she called me “friend.”
a word I wouldn’t use for a number of my co-workers, she used for a stranger.
it humbled me and filled me with love.

someone I don’t know truly wanted me to be okay.
no one should have to feel pain and be embarrassed by it.
the mentality of truly caring for all is something I cannot say I’ve adopted.
but seeing that, feeling that, care of someone who loves like that was something I’ll never forget.
it was powerful.

[and if I recover, will you be my comfort?]

[I’m so glad you’re going to be okay, friend.]