Ramblin.

The holidays are rapidly approaching and I am getting exponentially weaker by the day. Thanksgiving is difficult, a KC proposed to me the day after what used to be my favorite holiday. Now it is sullies with bad memories and heartache. Though this year will be a little different, my niece and nephew will be joining the family table for the first time. I swear to *God* babies are like little tiny human prozac...they just make shit better. I feel like things have been going along pretty well, even with thoughts of KC heavy on my mind lately, I have been handling the thoughts well and even been able to get out some joyful feelings from what are normally hurtful, painful shitty fucking feelings. I have widowed friends, ya know? I have lots of widowed women in my life who are beautiful, passionate, sweet, empathetic, amazing women who lift me up all of the time. I have become a counselor to them as they have been to me. My good friend recently lost her father and her mother and I now share this title: Widow. It's so strange, this instant connection. This bond forged from unimaginable pain. But it is real, just as real as any other bond forged for any good reason. I am lucky to know and learn and grow these women. We are lucky to have found this community of support and hope. One of the women whom I have met at Camp Widow is recently engaged and elated about life. I envy her that, but more than envy I am happy and hopeful. Whatever is right for me will happen, and until then: my mission is ME. I am reconnecting with ME. I am getting healthy. I am getting strong. I am re-affirming that I am a woman who is worthy of love. I am finding out how to look sexy, feel sexy, exude sexy, and BE sexy because I want to and I can. I am unabashedly who I am. And I like it. The rest....well....the rest will surely come. And if not....fuck it. I'll look good.........