For such a long time, as much of the blathering here stands testament, I've been kicking and screaming, wallowing and wailing hoping that my self-induced misery would burn itself out.

Once and for all I think I'm done.

I'm saying yes, going places
I'm saying no, standing my ground
I'm doing, painting, plumbing, puttering
I'm letting it roll off my back

I am as happy as I can ever remember being, and I'm happy in where I am.
I'm not looking for an out,
Not looking for someones foot steps to fall into and follow...

I'm going places, meeting people, staying home, I'm doing what ever I please.

My boys are both home and I know in them I see how I've done well.
We laugh instead of gnashing teeth and hissing.

When conflicts arise, it's not the end of the world.

I'm opening my doors, my heart and my life to possibility.

Guilt is in the back seat.

I am so happy for me.

And I am so grateful for all of you who bore witness while I thrashed and whined.
I needed to be small and ridiculous to be here, where I am bigger than life, and ready to be the person I knew was buried under all the weight of what was.

Every word, every post I've read, every e-mail, every photo, every comment has been woven into my recovery.

I ate cake last week. I ate a full meal and cake. Without panic, guilt or an unreasonable reaction.

Aint it something that I can come out of the dark and into the light where I can hardly see myself for all the beautiful world that has been waiting so patiently for me.