Hello, Old Friend

There have not been many times I have come back to this site to write. Not since Anna died.

On the other hand, there are many times I've written an entry in my head, with the words of what I want to say laid out perfectly, the ideas captured, the themes there, the sentiments expressed, and then, time would be replaced with "not writing" and they would all fade... Out of my mind but restless on my heart.

There were three main reasons I quit this.

One, the obvious. A deep, dark depression and complete turmoil in a world turned upside down after the death of my child. Followed by another trauma. And then another. Covered by a facade that all was merry and bright. And then devoting time to pulling myself out of the wreckage, emerging miraculously with Manny's hand in mine, and my hand in Manny's.

Two, a story shared once by accident, and as the words tumbled out of their mouth, I could tell they so desperately wanted to take those words back, as they laughed, but saw that I wasn't. An entry from long ago, about self-improvement, my desire to lose weight, to stop smoking, to be better, amidst our crazy - truly crazy - life at the time. And the story, about how one person read it, and then called another, this storyteller over, to laugh at it, here she goes again, another entry about how "this is the day" she will lose weight, she will quit smoking, she will...

I did not deserve that.

However, I have learned a few things along the way since. And to save those enlightenments for blogs to come, I will say simply: I have been smoke-free for a Very. Long. Time. (And Manny, I need to share, has been smoke-free for 2 years-plus as of this past July 4th.) I have also lost 30 pounds. Collectively, Manny and I have lost 50 since that time of that entry and that storyteller laughed about our lives.

Of course, I now ramp up again to lose more. But I know - I know this time - that it will take me a thousand tries. And that's okay with me. It's better than not trying at all.

I will also say this: I have run three half-marathons, and I am not a runner. I am slow, but I am steady, and I did it. So, I guess by all accounts, that makes me a runner. God does have a sense of humor.

Laugh away.

Three, someone important to me was inadvertently hurt, many years ago. It wasn't something that was said or written. It was something that never was. They were a faithful reader, a loud cheerleader, and felt overlooked. For a long time, I wanted to explain to them that it was completely unintentional.

I promise now I am a better friend. But I also know I was best a friend I could be at the time. Which is not an excuse. But it is the truth. Someone wrote an essay out there once about how special needs parents are the worst friends. It's true. I needed a lot of love back then. I needed more love than I knew. But I also know I am sorry.

With this all here, laid bare, I begin again. And who knows, it may take me a thousand tries, but I will do my best to reclaim "This Stefanie Matters" because, after a lot of soul searching, I have found... She does.