I Have Something To Say…

I turned 44 years old this week. 
Really, I’m just 29!  It’s the
joke in our family—“Oh, yeah.  Mom’s 29
this year!”  I figure if I stick with the
same number every year it will make it really easy for my kids to always
remember my age!

So why age 29 do you ask? 
Is she just pining for something from her past or does she not want to
recognize all of the years in between? 
Actually, it’s neither.  After all
of these years, the reason just came to me. 
It’s because I was 29 years old when depression hit me.  I was 29 years old when my life took a curve
and entered an era of intense struggle and hardship.  I was 29 when I began a journey into the
insidiousness of depression that required medication to “level” me out.  I was 29 years old when I began a journey that
would involve deep, dark days; moments of agony as I quietly endured; silent
heartbreak; days and months and years of wondering who I was turning into; days
of wishing I could just be buried in a hole; days when I knew I was not
connecting with my children or my husband; days and months and years when I
wondered how in the world was I going to make it out of this alive; years of
wondering why God handed me this challenge…and years of keeping it mostly a secret as I went about my day-to-day life because I did not want it to define who I knew I really was.

29.  It’s an odd
number.  And it’s the number that marked
the beginning of a journey that lasted 12 long years…very long years in many
respects.  It is also the number that
marks the challenge that had the potential to refine and mold me in ways that I
need in order that I could learn how to honor my true self.  It’s the number that began a journey that
lives today…a journey that led to unexpected experiences and learning about
myself.

Join me as I unveil 12 years in the making…and the last three years of unexpected returns.