"Write, she told me..."

Writing, as always, has been my therapy. My escape. My way to figure out all of the unanswered questions I have in my life. I often think back to a moment in college when it seemed as if life would swallow me whole and she told me to write. She, my inspiration to continually write better, is perhaps one of my oldest friends who constantly amazes me with how her writing is always insightful and fresh.

I'm hoping to see her at the end of this month with my childhood best friend. We will have a "Grown & Sexy Reunion" where we will sit around in sweat pants and eat junk food and talk about how grown and sexy we've become. Her words. Did I mention she's a comedian?

However, this post is not about what a wonderful person she is, but rather, what wonderful people I have in my life. Period.

The last several weeks have been a lesson in grieving...which is strange because I haven't lost anyone yet–my Nonna's heart still beats, her hand is still warm for me to hold. But, just knowing that it will not always be like this—and probably on a day sooner than I would like—has left me exhausted, bitter, and confused. Enter the wonderfully caring, amazingly supportive people who surround me. The people who abstained from talking to me about their own trials because they knew I couldn't handle any more grief. The amazing women who always had the exact right thing to say without ever sounding trite. The incredible family who have held me up despite their own sorrow. The friends who have fantastic things happening in their lives and have helped me to look beyond myself and rejoice with them. All of these combined to get me over one of the most challenging times in my life.

And while I have entered into a place of acceptance and peace, it doesn't mean that the worst is over. It means that I have more good days than bad days now. It means that I don't feel guilty about finding joy in life anymore. But, I still have this restlessness in my soul, this feeling of needing to escape, of needing to fill my life with distractions. I want to get in my car and just start driving. I don't know what stage of grief this is called. But, I know I will get through this as well. I will continue to dig deep and find the strength that I don't think I have.

I will be more than a conqueror.