Sitting on my balcony, glass of wine and a good book, peace in my heart, gratitude for what is and acceptance of what isn’t. Three years ago my life fell apart. It had been falling apart for years and I had been killing myself to hold it together. Then I reached the point where I could no longer do that. What followed was rage and agony and heartbreak and a complete undoing and then the endlessness of grief and the urgency of survival.

There were so many days when I didn’t know how I would make it thru to the next day. I kept breathing and time kept moving. I wrote my pain and people were gracious enough to receive it and hold it and I felt less alone.

And now I look up into the sunset, in this quiet, and realize I have reached a place I couldn’t imagine reaching. A place of peace and hope and gladness. A place of contentment where my gratitude outweighs my grief. A place where days flow in a beautiful rhythm that matches my own heartbeat.

I longed for this place and I fought for this place but I am not here because of my own efforts. I am here because of love. I am here because of each word of kindness and gesture of support. Hours of listening, friends weeping with me, emails and phone calls and patience and so much tenderness.

I lived my life thinking that everything depended on me. That the failure or success of every part of my life, every relationship, every project, every dream was my responsibility entirely. That it’s all up to me. I was so good at holding myself responsible and so bad at holding others responsible for their choices. And I was so good at giving help, or trying to, and so bad at asking for or receiving help.

I think I’m getting better at that. And I know without any shadow of doubt that this magical place where I find myself is not because I soldiered on alone but because I started learning how to cry my pain in the open. I was so afraid but so desperate. And I found that, instead of shame or judgment, love swept in and held me. Love came in and warmed the hearth and laid the table and let me be broken and did not ask for more.