When do I get to be happy?

Today.

I get to be happy today.  And yesterday and tomorrow.  I get to be happy every day.

I was talking to one of my very best friends last night (who is honestly someone so very special that I am thankful every single day to have her in my life) and she told me that she was sorry for being “mean”.  Her “mean” is caring about me.  Her mean is raising concerns and telling me that she loves me and wants to see me better.  I told her that she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body and I know it all comes from her heart.  She has supported me for years and is there for me always and forever.  I LOVE YOU JM.

She said she’s worried, and so is everyone in my life because nobody wants it to be too late.

That’s scary.  Sad.  Awful.  Horrible.

Read between the lines Lisa.  She is saying that people are worried that you are going to die.  You will have a heart attack and die.  At home, in the car, the office, the mall, walking down the street.  Anywhere.  Your body simply will give up and tell you that it can no longer take it.

I am 42 fucking years old and my best friend is worrying about standing at the cemetery watching my body being lowered into the ground.  Think about that.  Think how awful that is for her.  Forget about the pain and suffering to myself.  It’s not just about me.  Well, it is – but everyone around me, who loves and cares about me wants to see me better and so it is about them.  They are an extension of who I am.  So it’s about all of us.

She went on to say how much I have to offer.  How much I am loved.  People admire and respect me.  And here I am – torturing myself.  Not respecting myself.  Not admiring myself.  But basically killing myself.  Ending my life.  Taking away all of the great things that lie ahead for me and making them vanish one thing at a time.

But today.  Today I get to be happy.

Today I will make a choice that will finally allow me to be happy.

Stay tuned.

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