I was just in NYC, and, as with my last few visits, can't seem to escape my memories of the past. They're cast so firmly in stone, I once thought they formed a prison—but for some time now, I see them as the foundation on which I stand.Let's agree that 2010 was a tough year for me. The high-note it started on quickly turned. Overwhelmed by life-altering stresses, daily stresses, led me to make some sad choices as I buried some intense emotions.
Along the way, I bought my home, began fixing it up, began living a more balanced life (sorry fans, this means I am drawing a bit less ;-).
I'd never lost anyone really close to me before this year. So, my grandmother's passing opened some emotional floodgates, and I began to crawl out of my haze...too little, too late, for some.
But after months of self reflection, talking with those who know me best, a bit of therapy, and a strikingly meaningful trip to India, I feel a few rungs up the ladder, at least. And, this past weekend, I climbed a very important rung for me.
The outcome of the climb was hardly "joyous." I'd tried to not hold any preconceived ideas of what might happen, as the climb was as important as any tangible outcome could be.
As I walked away from it, the feeling hit me. For the first time in my life, I felt extraordinary. Not relative to anyone else; not in-comparison-to; not tempered with any realistic sense of my place in the universe. Just me, extraordinary.
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