The truth is, I am pretty darn happy. In fact, last night I was at Andrew's pre-K graduation celebratory dinner with the fam at a way-too-nice-to-take-kids-to restaurant (in our defense we arrived at 5:30). We were sitting outside overlooking the water, I was sipping a Chardonnay, Alex was shoving anything he could get his hands on into his face (avacado, bread, corn, cheese, penne, fusilli with lobster and cognac cream sauce...whoops!) and I said to the table--"I am so lucky." But here's the thing: I wasn't thinking because my cancer didn't come back or because I was able to have a miracle child, who, p.s., may become a competitive eater. I was thinking I am so lucky because I don't have to get dressed tomorrow morning and take a train to work in an office. Hey, at least I'm honest.
I think you all know that I am incredibly grateful for my health. I guess I just have a tough time stopping every day to say, "I don't have cancer, and therefore I am happy!" And I've always struggled with the cancer-survivor perspective thing (I feel like people expect that because you beat cancer, you should never be upset/angry/obsessed with losing the last five pounds again). Does that make me a bad person? I don't know. Are you guys always happy? Do you remember to smell the roses? Please share! --Erin
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