I’m a survivor, a gypsy, a dreamer, a hot mess, a poet, a patient, a poster child, a big sister, a dancer, a laugher, a victim, a champion, and a great believer in the need for sanctuary of the spirit. Also the strangely sane embodiment of Murphy’s Law. When anything can go wrong, it will. But at least it does so in a spectacular, overblown spectacle ripped straight out of the headlines or Hollywood studio heads.  There’s no afternoon special or instruction manual on how to survive the unique challenges of my life.

But I guess there isn’t for you either. And I think that’s why I write, really. Because sometimes humanity is just a bunch of cavemen with fancy tools stumbling around, wrestling for power and being simultaneously afraid of and intrigued by change. We’re chaotic, unyielding, and unfairly fascinating. If I can capture any of that, even just a moment or a small truth, then maybe we’ll be one step closer to unraveling the fickle, heartbreaking, unrelenting glory that is life.

Despite my particular loaded deck of challenges, I still have hope for the future. I’ve run from my past for too long. Like the tattooed phoenix on my hip, it’s time to rise from my ashes.