When the clock struck midnight on January 1st, 2018, I had an overwhelming sense of gratitude. “This is going to be the best year yet!” I could feel it deep in my bones. The Huss family was going to rock 2018!
Here’s the thing, I’ve always been able to find the humor in the horror. It’s why The Apartment Manager’s Blog did so well. Something horrendous would happen, and instead of crying (or rocking in the fetal position and self-medicating with chocolate), I told the tale with humor. It’s how I landed a book deal.
Anyway. So my bones were wrong. 2018 has been one big craptaster after another.
Let me explain.
Welcome to my PITY PARTY.
The short of my pity party is this: My daughter needs to have surgery. Her best friend in the whole wide world, Bob Fluffy Baby Huss (the parrot), had a sudden and traumatic death. I found a big fat tumor in my super dense breast. I found out that I need to have my boobs amputated. Pathology came back from a mole–it too has funky cells. And blah…blah…blah…
BUT WORST OF ALL!
My best friend is moving to the other side of the world.
Well, not the world. The other side of the country. But it might as well be the other side of the world because now if I want to see her, I have to get on a plane. And she’s moving the week before I have my boobs cut off. When she broke the news to me, I cried. I really cried. I cried so hard that my husband walked in and asked, “Are you watching This is Us?”
I was feeling lonely and grumpy, and kind of like I wanted to punch someone and/or something.
Then, when my newish brother-in-law found out about my mastectomy, he told my husband that he should go to my doctor and demand an upgrade– double-ds!
(for the record: mastectomy is nothing like a boob job)
So my husband told my brother-in-law, that someday he might be lucky enough to find out that his penis is filled with tumors and needs to be removed. Then his wife can go in and be like sweet! Free penis upgrade! Make sure it’s bigger!
And I loved him even more for that.
So I figured even if the world is splitting in two, at least I have a kick-a husband.
Then I figured that even though everything seems to be going down the toilet, at least I have my kick-a husband and my cute little kiddos.
Then I figured that even though people can suck, most don’t. I have good friends in my life. I also have a beautiful house to fit all my cute kids, and I have two dogs who I adore, and I have the ability to run, and I faith, and I have great parents, siblings, and an agent, awesome publisher, and a best-selling book, and some pretty cool contracts in the works.
If you focus on the good all the other crap will fade away.
Wow. I should meme that.
That’s not quite right.
FYI: It’s not considered an inspirational meme unless it has a picture of a tree.
Also, I’m not sure inspirational memes have the word crap in it…
Bottom line: I was feeling good about life again.
Until this morning.
When I was plucking my eyebrows, I found a shiny silver hair protruding from my skin. I’m thirty-five years old. It’s unrealistic to think I’d make it all the way through my thirties without a gray hair (sort of thought it would be on my head, but whatever). There it was, staring at me in my 20X magnifying mirror–reality. I am getting older.
So I did what I normally would do. I laughed. I laughed so hard I had tears streaming down my legs…I mean…ummmm…face. Face. FACE. Tears down my face.
I’ve had five kids, people.
Anyway. So I’m getting older and I’m getting my boobs cut off and my best friend is moving away and…I’m alive.
I’m alive and that’s something.
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