Two Years and counting...
Some people remember dates for birthdays. Some remember dates for anniversaries. Some remember dates of death. And some...remember dates of survival. June 5, 2017. A date for me that will be tattooed in my heart for the rest of my life. A day that I was to take my last breath ultimately lead to me learning to appreciate the very breath I breathe today, and becoming absolutely sure that there is a God much bigger than any of my problems. My Facebook status that morning was “I’m not good at being strong. 💔💔💔” I can remember typing that. A way of reaching out, yet vague enough to keep me in the dark. I sat alone in the house that was once filled with the life I yearned to get back. The memories around every corner we’re drowning me and there was no escaping. I was at a point of no return. I wanted out. I wanted it to be over, and there was no changing my mind. My broken heart was physically painful. Mentally I was in a place so low climbing out was unattainable. It was time for