Okay, so I didn't read that book, but I am going to "borrow" the title.
I've heard from several people that the second year after a loss can be harder in a lot of ways. I don't know if this year has been harder, I don't think anything will ever be as hard as that first year after we lost Rip. And of course now we have Gracie, thank the Good Lord for Gracie.
But I used to believe that life was Good (yes, with a capital "G"). I woke up almost every day expecting that something good was going to happen and excited to see what that thing was going to be. These days, I have an underlying dread in my chest. Most days I feel like a balloon with the air let out, whizzing around thinking "ohno!ohno!ohno!ohno!" And I am sick of it.
Last year, after Rip died, I started writing on this blog again as a year-long project to see what would happen. What happened, in my opinion, was nothing short of miraculous. So this is year two. This year, instead of giving birth to someone else (thank goodness, no offense, Rip and Gracie) I am going to try to have a little re-birth of my own. Because I really miss the old me.
So, I have no idea what this little project of mine will entail, but I am hoping that writing it all down will hold me accountable. Because no, life did not go how I'd planned, but this is what I have to work with and there are 5 million and 65 (approximately) quotes on Pinterest telling me that the only person who can change my life is me (well, and God...but that's a whole different post).
So. Year Two...The Happiness Project. Rip, Mama's trying bud, and that's what counts.