Hope Floats: How I Survive

4 years ago
This article was written by a member of the SheKnows Community. It has not been edited, vetted or reviewed by our editorial staff, and any opinions expressed herein are the writer’s own.

When I started posting on Blogher, I promised myself I wouldn't post the "poor me whines" type of blogs that are full of sorrow and self pity. I can cull through four years of constant "bliaries" that do just that and it bores me to re-read them. Once in a while, when I look back, I will find a gem and then it will get rehashed and put on my new page.

Today is different. For the first time since starting this blog I am going to post a piece I am actually writing now. And I'm going to whine, just a little. Four years ago I decided to resign from my teaching job to write a book and continue my vintage business full time. Little did I know what I was in for.

Since that time, my middle daughter has been in and out of psych wards and attempted suicide, constantly battling bipolar disorder and my partner of twenty-five years now suffers from multiple myeloma. For those of you who are unschooled in this particular type of cancer, it is a blood disorder which originates in bone marrow and at this time, there is no way of placing it in remission. Chemo slows the cancer and there is a five to ten year window once it has been diagnosed.

Because of my decision to walk away from gainful employment, I am in the hole financially like I have never been before, teetering on the edge of losing the storefront I worked so hard to create. And hear I sit, dear reader, pondering what life is all about.

I can tell you that the family illnesses I deal with have brought me to my knees more than once. I can tell you that financial stress has left me bereft of sleep many nights.  I can tell you that friends and family have told me more than once "I don't know how you do it."

But I do. Just like all of you do. We women are survivors. It's part of what we are. Now you know. The writing is part of my escape, just as the antiquing business is.

Yesterday I visited a little thrift shop that's next to the hospital that kept my daughter for many days. Among my picks was a pot metal statue of Mary from the early 20th Century. She was missing her base, but I purchased her and made a stand for her last night. Now, she literally floats. And with her and the little pieces I gathered to create today's photo, my hope returns. After all, without faith and hope where would we be?

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