|Bare faced, scarred and natural.|
Twenty years ago, I couldn't even imagine turning 50.
Ten years ago, it still seemed so far away, but I still had time to live in the "before" and enjoy my life with my toddler and my husband.
Eight years ago, when my oldest sister turned 50, I was all "ohmygod I can't believe she's so old!" (Haha. Love you Sis!)
Four and a half years ago, I wasn't sure I was going to make it to 50. Being diagnosed with cancer will do that to you. You start thinking about living and dying, and you start to feel grateful for each day you are given on this beautiful earth.
Exactly four years ago today, I sat in the bathroom with a razor and shaved my head bald and bawled for all the changes I was about to go through.
|Tried on a mohawk before taking it all off.|
|The future was so bright...|
Two years ago I was unpacking boxes in the 'new-to-me' home I moved into with my daughter, all my hopes and dreams and goals for the future shot to hell and shattered with one word.
|Celia's new bed.|
One year ago I stopped crying. I bought my house. I traded in the marital car for something I chose for myself. I did a lot of soul searching and dreaming up new dreams. I made plans to do things I never had the opportunity to do before. I started to enjoy life again.
|Sign of the Times.|
It's been a long road, this road to 50. It's been riddled with potholes and stoplights, u-turns and bridges over troubled waters. But I'm here. I made it.
This is me, today. I have no idea what the future will bring. I try to let go of the heaviness and uncertainty, or else it will consume me.
I try to be grateful for the things I DO have. Like my own home, my amazing daughter, my new dog. I have some pretty darn good friends, near and far. I enjoy cooking foods I want to eat, going places I want to go to, planning road trips and vacations to places I've never been. I no longer walk on eggshells, I am a whole person again. I am a survivor, I am strong. I'll see you in ten years.
Well, really, I'll see you tomorrow.