This year


This year I laughed a lot.

I faced my fears and made a film. I will never do it again.

I got to feel a warm breeze as I watched Caribbean waves.

I read good books and not enough of them. I lost and found myself in stories.

This year I began learning to be kind to my body. I am still trying.

I was not kind enough to my brain and I paid the price.

I made it through. I asked for help. I am taking one day at a time.

This year I loved.

I was heartbroken.

I grieved.

This year I started a writing course and quit after one session. I remembered I knew how to do it all along.

I tried very hard to put myself first. Often, I failed.

I stood from my wheelchair and clung to a railing to watch the sun set over Manhattan.

I looked for Rocs and I found him.

This year I covered an election for the BBC.

I interviewed for jobs and didn’t get any of them. I ended up doing what I love, anyway.

This year I cried a lot.

I was lucky.

As ever, I was so proud of Stan and Boo.

And over and over again, I was grateful for the army of friends who made sure I got this far.

This year, they were simply the best.

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