Living.

Is that what I had actually been doing? I don't think so. I think I had so much to do, so much I thought I had to do, that I convinced myself that I would be just fine.

Bullshit.

You can't raise healthy kids or foster healthy relationships if you don't take care of yourself.

Self-care is important, dammit! Bla..bla..bla...

As cliched as it sounds, it's true. I was taking care of everyone, whether they needed it or not - well, everyone but me. I let myself go, and not in the good way like that George Strait song where she goes to the beach and shit.

Mmmm... George Strait.... oh. Shit. Where was I?

Anyway, it's been only a few days that I've reframed my life to include making myself a priority, and I already feel better. I think that it really the idea that I am worth doing the things that I love in combination with the day-to-day requirements of being a responsible adult. I don't know how I transitioned into that person who didn't think that was possible.

I want to live. I mean, LIVE. I want to be able to sit on the front porch in my old age and think back to this time in my life and be able to recall fondly and proudly of the choices I made to enhance my own quality of life. I want memories of experiences, not memories of regret. I want to give everything I have got to Quinn and then some - his disability will no longer keep us from doing things I once thought impossible because of MY insecurities.

Now, that does not mean I'm going to bungee jump or skydive, I may not even leave the comfort of my living room. But it does mean that I am going to make thoughtful choices about what is good for him and I and us.

I truly can't wait.