Two weeks post-camp, I am thankful (in no particular order) for:

  • Finding my voice and the courage to use it;
  • Friends who encourage me to push harder and friends who help me to see when I need to let go;
  • My adorable, silly, sweet, loud, messy, exhausting children;
  • My adorable, silly, sweet, messy, exhausting husband;
  • My au pair (and friend and general holder together of my sanity);
  • Good doctors;
  • Meds;
  • My (kick ass) therapist;
  • Running;
  • Yoga;
  • Writing;
  • Music (particularly 90s hip-hop);
  • Impromptu dance parties; 
  • Chocolate;
  • Finally learning to meditate and not hate it;
  • That my 15 month old daughter loves Beyoncé as much as I do;
  • Take out for dinner;
  • Long walks with good listeners;
  • Having options;
  • Long baby naps;
  • Unseasonably warm weather;
  • Sweatpants;
  • Libraries;
  • Baby Tylenol and Baby Advil;
  • Every person who is also telling their truth about mental illness out loud and without shame.

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