This is something I wrote in a notebook when we first moved here. I'm not sure if I ever made a post out of it, but it deserves to be.
"It's been a few weeks that we've been here now. Time has gone by so fast yet painfully slow. The first few weeks I cried. It felt like the tears would never stop coming. Then I dried my tears and wrote out the pain - the good, the bad, and the ugly. I was able to sit back and look at it objectively. To say look, yes, here's what I'm crying over now, but look what I had to cry over then. Somehow it eased the pain and the near panic attacks left me. I still feel a slightness of them occasionally in my chest and wonder if they'll come back full blown, but for the most part they're gone.
So here I sit with my feet in the water, my boys playing fort with the pool chiars in the water, and I'm being bitten alive by mosquitoes and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I wonder if they'd bite me if I was dead? Morbid thought.
Yes I still miss my family and yes I'm sure I'll still shed tears over not being near them, but I am content. Finally content.
My boys wanting to be home is pricelss, their inseperable bond is priceless, and being able to argue with my husband without feeling like I don't care or that I want a divorce is immeasurable in joy.
Here there is pain. Helathy pain. The kind you can grow from. California has the kind you can masque or cover up. I prefer the growing."
And as I finish typing that into here I am wowed at the immediacy of it. I could've written that yesterday.