28 IS GREAT!

In less than a month my entire life will be completely different than what it was even a few weeks ago.


Better home. Dream job. Sexy man. Twenty-eight is going to be a fabulous year. I am floored. Humbled. On my knees thanking the heavens for my good fortune. This has been the best birthday week of my life.

When I look back over the last few years I am still in awe of just how far I’ve managed to climb. To give you all some perspective I am going to lay it bare for you.

The absolute low was the first night I spent alone after I was diagnosed with a brain aneurysm. I had already been diagnosed with a muscle tissue problem so I was overwhelmed (and a little pissed off). All I could think was: “Well, shit. Let’s go ahead and give me cancer, too.”

It was a few days before the exploratory operation to gage the size of the aneurysm and map it for the full surgery. I didn’t find out until later that I wasn’t going to drop dead at any moment or that I would not need the more risky 2nd surgery.

I was sitting there thinking of all the things I wanted to do. All the people I was not done loving. And this image of a jack-in-the-box came to mind. I felt this invisible force winding the leaver round, and round, and round; and there was nothing I could do to stop it. All too soon it would be, POP! Goes the aneurysm!

And I would be gone.

I kept saying the same thing over and over. I’m not done yet. But, I’m not done yet. At first it was just a whisper through the salty tears that had run down my cheeks and into the corners of my mouth. Then it was a little louder and then I was screaming, “But, I am NOT FUCKING DONE YET!”

Before I really understood what I was doing I tore the house apart. Threw over the coffee tables, ripped pictures off the walls. Punched the door till my knuckles were raw and bloody. And I was screaming like a  banshee the whole time.

And then I thought what if I burst the damn thing and kill myself right now by freaking out like this? The thought ripped the scream from my throat and I just wilted to the floor in the hallway. I lay there for quite a while. The music from the jack-in-the-box still taunting me. And all the people I loved flashing through my mind like a slide show.

Mom. Dad. Bryan. Katie. Alex. K’lah. Becky. Aubrey. Coop. The O’Connell’s. The Duke’s. All my friends. Even my dog, Molly.

Eventually the grief and fear faded into a numbness that was awkward but tolerable. I pulled myself off the floor, took a survey of the damage I had caused and then slowly, wearily, I began to pick up the pieces of everything I had shattered.

I didn’t realize at the time I wasn’t just collecting the broken pieces of my living room décor. I was also collecting the broken pieces of myself.

As I cleaned, I resolved that I would find my way. I’d make it. Along the way I’d enjoy every simple pleasure. Every moment. I would relish every little detail of my world. I began to appreciate even the smallest of events: Freshly washed sheets. My favorite candy. Songs I loved. The sun on my skin. The sound of the cicadas on summer nights. Every Sooner touchdown. Every tasty pint of beer.

Bit by bit I learned how to manage my health. The aneurysm is actually not life threatening. They call it more accurately an infendibulum, which has hardly any chance of blowing my brain out of my skull.

I learned that volatile prescription drugs only traded in my symptoms for side-effects. I learned that my diet and vitamin supplements greatly improved my energy levels. I finally learned not to constantly run at 90 miles a minute and that it was ok to slow down. To admit that I wasn’t feeling well and give myself a break when I needed it.

It’s given me my life back. I live today almost as if I did three years ago before all this shit happened. All it takes is humility, grit, determination & patience. I can do that. This I can survive. Fuck you, jack-in-the-box! I’m the one with my hand on the leaver now!

And I wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for anything.

I used to think I wanted to be rich and have the nicest material things money could buy. I wanted to be spoiled rotten.

Well, I am spoiled rotten. But in things that matter so much more to me than any house, car or even …(gasp!) a sweet pair of heels.

I am rich in my amazing family. In my long-time, loyal friends. In meeting a wonderful guy. I have people in my life that truly matter. Amazing people that would do anything for me, and I for them.

I am rich in my luck that what might have killed me made me a stronger, better version of myself. It also provided the lowest of lows so that I could be singing so high in the clouds today!

Today I was offered the job I really, really wanted. It is a chance to get back to my roots in advertising and it moves my career in the direction I really want to go. This was the final piece of the puzzle.

I am in good health. My personal life has been wonderful. Now that my professional life has come together I feel like I could cry. There is too much happiness in my heart to contain it. I shed tears of joy and absolute gratitude for every wonderful, desperate, painful and pleasurable moment of the last three years.