If you don't know me personally, that statement might seem meaningless, so for you, I will explain: I don't give up--ever.
For the past couple of years I have slogged through medical difficulties (not quite finished with those), financial problems (welcome to today's economy), parenting difficulties (um...what parent doesn't have those?), identity crises (just preparing for my middle-age crisis which will, no doubt happen within the next couple of decades), depression (sigh...it happens...), and difficulties managing stress/panic/PTSD.
I won't lie; there have been moments when I absolutely wished to give up, when I felt so incredibly tired I wanted to lie on some busy street and let the traffic run over me, when I felt alone and picked on and completely unable to manage my life.
However, giving up seems to be one thing I do not know how to do--even when I wish to.
This morning I woke up--literally and figuratively. Many of the therapy exercises I've been working on finally kicked in. Add to that the fact that I've been trying to take care of myself in a lot of different ways; I've been taking time to be with people in person, through phone calls, and online; and I finally decided that I will be who I am and finish the things I've begun and live the life I've been given.
And in the midst of all that, I found my lost sense of humor, regained my endless sense of wonder, and took just a few moments to dance in my kitchen this morning.
If you know me personally, there is no surprise in all this. It was bound to happen...a matter of course...simply inevitable.
Because I am Samantha. I think deeply, love endlessly, and live joyfully. My cooking is delicious, my energy is boundless, and my laughter is contagious.
And my favorite number is three.