I have to dance

Wednesday night I danced. I danced Kizomba, an African dance. I danced Bhangra, an Indian dance. I danced in a dance studio with other people. People I had just met moments before. I danced by myself. I danced with the girls I had gone with, two of whom I'd just met an hour before. I danced with a boy who thanked me each time we finished a dance. I danced. On both of my legs. That night I danced and I laughed and I cried and I climb stairs and I walked miles and I stared out at the city I live in from high atop a skyscraper and I danced. With both of my legs. With my amazing body.

My amazing body.

The one that just one year ago today had me lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs and heart monitors, that had me wondering if I was going to make it through the night, much less 365 more days.

A year ago today my life changed. A year ago today I started this new journey of sickness and health. Of terror and pain. Of hope and faith and love. Of figuring out how to navigate this new path.

A year ago today.

Two weeks ago I had a panic attack while walking. I was sure that after dropping a suitcase on my foot I was getting a new blood clot. I was sure that that blood clot was moving up to my lungs as one had just 365 days ago. But it didn't. Nothing bad happened. My bruised foot healed quickly and I logically knew I was okay. I kept walking.

A week ago I had a panic attack sitting on the couch. I'd hit my head on the garage door putting Christmas decorations away and I was sure that large knot on the side of my head was an indication of a brain bleed. And the first thing the doctor told me in the hospital when explaining my new lifelong relationship with Xarelto was to never hit my head. Do not go skiing. Protect yourself. Because a brain bleed can happen quickly. And it's bad news. And here I'd gone and hit my head. Hard. I was sure I was dying.

And yet? I woke up Sunday morning. Fine. The bump went down this week and while it's still tender to the touch, I'm almost positive nothing happened to my brain. My amazing body.

A year ago today I felt scared, curious, worried, but most of all? Safe. I was in the hospital. Doctors and nurses and ultrasound and lab techs who know so much more than me were taking care of me.

Today it's just me. But it's not. I've learned over the past year who I can count on.

I've learned that my parents will be at my side in just a few hours notice even if they have to fly over thousands of miles to do it. I've learned that my sister is an amazing caretaker and listener and most of all, she is my person. She listens and she never denies my fears. She takes care of me in so many ways I never even dreamed I'd need to be taken care of. I've learned that I have friends who show up. At the hospital. At my house. On the phone. In cards and packages. In prayers. I am so loved. And I remember this every single day.

And I've learned that the journey isn't over. I still have the blood clots, I have gallbladder issues, I have liver issues. These things won't go away overnight. They may never go away. So they have to be navigated. And I have an amazing health care provider and friend in Trace who is constantly caring for me. This week it's with dandelion root. I am grateful for dandelion root.

But most of all? Wednesday night I danced. I danced with new friends. I cannot explain to you what that felt like. For so many reasons. New friends. New legs. Fresh year. There's so much ahead that though I can't help but look behind, I am so much more interested in what is next.

With my year of yes I'm moving forward, I'm making my world bigger. Just in the past two weeks I've joined two professional organizations for writers. I've gone to a networking/learning opportunity at CAA (the biggest agency in town). I've met new people. I've made new friends. I've worked with a personal trainer. I've spent two days recording myself giving a pitch of one of my pilots to submit to a contest. And I submitted it! I've said YES to everything. Even to slowing down and writing and going to lunch and falling asleep early. I've said YES. And it's been life changing.

A year ago today blood clots tried to kill me. Four years ago today penicillin tried to kill me. Didn't happen. Because I got places to go, things to do. I have to dance. 

Yumi, Alissa, Krista & me after dancing

Year of Yes

Shonda Rhimes, one of my favorite writers, wrote a book called Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand in the Sun and Be Your Own Person. It's not a writing book, not at all, but it is nonfiction. It's parts of her story, her experiences, creating and writing television shows, being a human being, losing weight, realizing how to live her life she had to say yes. One little word.

Yes.

I finished this book this weekend. I'd already determined late last year that 2016 was going to be my year. A better year than 2015. Granted, 2015 had some items in the plus category.

• Hawaii
• Lifetime developing one of my scripts (even if they didn't go forward with the show, I still count this as a HUGE HUGE plus)
• Spending time with family and friends
• Being alive and relatively healthy by the end
• Losing 21 pounds 

But then I finished this book. With tears and shouts of YES and a huge smile on my face. Shonda is a rockstar. She is my Bruce Springsteen, my Beatles, my Taylor.

I want everyone I know to read this book. I know that won't happen. But I want it to be so. I want everyone I know to be encouraged by Shonda's life, her adventures, her Year of Yes. Frankly, her new Life of Yes. Because I am. I am so encouraged.

This will be my Year of Yes. I am determined.

This morning I sat down at my desk and thought about how I could make meaningful changes to my career path, to my life path. I made a list. I added to it. I subtracted from it. I paid money to join an organization designed for writers like me. I emailed a friend to share the news. And his response? YAY! Come join me at this this and this. I love that. Already my world is getting bigger. Last year it seemed so small, my world, my life, and I'm done with that.

So here goes nothing. I'm going to spend the rest of the day writing. WRITING. Because I can. And? I have a new mantra. Just this weekend Ms. Shonda tweeted out this:

#writelikeyourerunningoutoftime

And so I will. Because frankly, I am. We all are. Running out of time. But not yet. Not this year. Not during MY year of yes.

Join me. Cheer me. Smile for me. Life is good. YES IT IS.