happiness isn't easy to define- it's different for everyone.
for one thing, people are different. actually, that's the most important thing.
before my diagnosis, i figured i was pretty happy. beautiful family, the most amazing husband in the world, friends that spoil me rotten, and an itinerary people would throw tomatoes at me for. i felt pretty fulfilled.
BANG!! Oh man, why didn't I do EVERYTHING I've wanted to do yet?
So it's unrealistic to think that way. At 31, I had done A LOT of things and SEEN a lot of places. It wasn't enough.
Why didn't I get up these last couple of years to tackle HALF that ever-growing to do list?
I didn't know it was HL. I thought it was early menopause, a cold, the flu, pneumonia or something. Turns out, it was more like EVERYTHING!!
Now, I don't feel too bad that i was THAT lazy- I knew that there was something wrong with me, I just didn't know what it was. It took a long time to find out, and by then, I was diagnosed with a stage 2b.
Ah, well. This chapter of my life is almost over.
My energy levels (which used to border on up real early to sleepy when it's really late) are coming back. My oomph to do and see and buy and eat everything is coming back.
My poor husband. My poor friends.
Who is going to get rest this summer? Not me. I can't wait to LIVE.
I owe it to everyone- my family, my friends, other survivors, and those who have gone before us.
And I really owe it to myself.
Like my nephew said, I will always be the slayer.