I had a moment the other day where I stopped and realized I was happy. It was an odd sensation, something unfamiliar. In the last 5 years of overwhelming grief, stress, trauma and survival there have been fleeting moments, here, and there, of joy. The moment would pass and I'd go back to scrambling, trying desperately to catch my breath. 

My path has never been clear, my way never straight, and narrow, no neat order. My path is wild, untamed, and uncertain.....

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 Healing is a slow journey. It doesn't happen over night. There are steps forward, and slips back, the occasional bold and giant leap. Patience has never been my strongest virtue, especially with myself.  I'm doing this book right now called The Artists Way by Julia Cameron.
​I'm just starting week 8 of 12 ----