On the Occasion of Your Birth

Inspirational song: Pride (In the Name of Love) (U2)

I really have something to be proud of today. It was two years ago today that this blog was born. It started in a swirl of stress, when I was miserably ill, angry, and terrified about entering into a year of living alone when the man went overseas (and it turned into a year and a half), and I needed somewhere to express my nervousness and hopes and dreams. It turned into so much more. It became a way to celebrate my little victories as I took myself from intermediate level to fearless almost-master gardener. It was a year and a half long love letter to my man who was on the other side of the world, a way to keep him connected to home the best I could. It was an absolutely free therapist when I told it my problems. It was a way to express to my friends and family what they mean to me. But most importantly, it taught me how to find my voice and let it be heard. I swore I would write every day, to make it a habit. I did that. Boy, did I do that. In two years, the only time I missed was the day of the biggest surgery of my life, when I was so heavily medicated that I could barely put two words together to tell the nurses what I wanted (more painkillers, as it turned out). I was so dedicated to this space, I begged the man to guest post that night, just to keep it going.

I've repeated a few of my stories, and I've reported on a few of my more repetitive tasks. I've had a few nights where I phoned it in, and a couple times where I really relied on pictures more than words. There are a few nights I bared the darkest parts of my soul. I grieved publicly in big, wet, sobbing tears over the deaths of my companions, human or otherwise. And many times I have written essays that I wish I could repost weekly, so everyone in the world would read the ones that make me beam with pride.

I'm addicted. There's no other way to put it. I love writing this, and I don't want to stop. I thought maybe once I'd made it through a year, I'd be less of a perfectionist or turn it into something different. As if. It just makes me want to write more. I shall not be stopping. So, until tomorrow, I leave you with pictures. As always.