This winter I found I was ready to fully accept my illness. It was no great epiphany. It was a process. Why it took me ten months after sitting under the tree, I’ll never know. But I was also able to understand that some dreams and plans are now beyond my reach. I’ll never be an executive again. I may never be a college professor. My husband and I may never be financially stable. I may never work as a full-time artist.
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