Home.

As far back as I can remember, I dreamt of distant cities and countries, places where people talked in different languages and accents, where food and fashion were foreign and nothing was assumed or expected as normal. I dreamt of an adventurous life moving around like a gypsy with a bounty on my head. I dreamt of a string of international lovers, never settling down in one place or at one job or with one person for long. That life, that lack of connection to any place or person, was what I thought I was meant to live, and I sought out to fulfill that destiny.

The place that I was supposed to call home for so many years is a place that, regardless of rights or wrongs or truthfulness or memory, I never felt that connection to. Everyone's memories are clouded by their own experiences and perceptions, but as the Good Prophet Doctor Phil teaches us, the only thing that matters is how you felt, and how those feelings shaped you. And the simple matter is that this home was a place I never felt welcome or comfortable. It was useless to try to explain why, no matter how hard I tried. Obviously, I thought, the reason that I couldn't connect to any places that were supposed to be my home was the common denominator: me. I had to have been the problem so there was no escaping this destiny.

But something remarkable has happened in recent years. I stopped searching. I stopped running. I stopped trying to find where I was supposed to be, and instead I just was. Maybe I was simply ready. Maybe I'd gone through enough and was just too tired to keep trying to be something I wasn't. But I know that when I met the man who is now my husband, I let myself learn for the first time what it was like to not be judged on what I was or what I was supposed to be for other people, but instead to be appreciated for who I am. Instead of a life where nothing I did was right, no matter how hard I tried, I found myself in a life where everything was right because it was truth. It was me. I did what felt right and so it was.

And I found peace.

The life that I have found in the city that became mine exactly two years ago is a life full of amazing people doing incredible things. Supporting their friends, their families, and their community, and allowing themselves to be happy. It was hard to accept for a long time and I still find myself doubting it occasionally, but thankfully at increasingly longer intervals. I know that I have never felt so free to follow my passions and dreams, and I have found others who feel the same way. Maybe it's this specific place that was founded by crazy dreamers who wouldn't take no for an answer. Maybe it's just that I subconsciously choose to find people who are like me. Or maybe I just notice these things now and hadn't before.It doesn't matter why I feel this way, only that I do. And now that I know what it feels like, nobody can take it away from me no matter where I go.

I will always have wanderlust, but I no longer travel in search of that elusive connection or in search of other options. I have finally found what I was always looking for, what I thought I would never have. And although I found it here, it no longer matters where I am, whether it's Dallas or New York, Atlanta or Miami, California or Paris or Cape Town or Shanghai...

With this knowledge, with this peace, I've found my home. And for that, I am truly thankful.

Fleeting.

So happiness is and was fleeting. Proof that when you have it you have to soak it up and drown yourself in it as long as possible. I did get there since my last post. For several glorious hours I allowed myself to feel positively joyous. My partner was by my side, my professional situation was promising and fulfilling, dear friends surrounded me in a celebration of a life beginning a new chapter. In a sexy midtown lounge forty floors below my office, I felt pure contentment. For those brief moments, I was truly happy.

And then a phone call. I had to go outside to hear what was being said. I stood on the sidewalk on 48th street trying to understand what it meant. The bouncers asked if I was alright. I said no. It didn't make any sense. Everyone was fine. We made it through what we thought was the worst tragedy we would face for at least another decade. Only two years earlier we'd been hit too closely. Surely another hit would not come so soon?

It did. And it's hard. The tears were immediate. I wanted to collapse under the weight of the news.

So now what? The battle.
His fight. The plan was already decided and the first phase was well underway.
Our fight. All of us who are close to this and who have come so far together and are not going to let this consume us.

We were all doing so well. Beautiful life-altering moments had filled our lives over the last few months. To prepare us for this? Maybe life has set us up to be in peaceful and safe and stable places in our lives so that we could be strong enough to handle this.

I have to believe that.

I am stuck between the cynicism of my recent past and the rediscovered optimism of my distant past when thinking about my future. I want to believe this was all planned in some way and the end result will be more beautiful than we could have ever imagined. Tragedies led to affirmations which led to another tragedy that we are just simply better prepared for now.

I know that amazing and wonderful lives are lost every day. I know this. But this one is simply too gifted, too unique, too rare and beautiful. The odds are good. The support is there. The resources are there. This one will fight and win and bring us more revelations and beauty and precious precious laughter.

And we will have all passed another test, and earned more happiness still. More bliss. Perfect bliss.

And then, then it will be truly appreciated.