I'm headed to Sydney and my tits shine

I love you guys. I write about healing and having this life-changing transformative experience and you're all: “Hey, that's great, can we see your new bra?!?” Beth's comment was my favorite. She said, “Look at you. Even your tits shine!”

I have to back up and say something about life and healing and martyrdom and waking up. A month ago I crashed. Crashed hard. I was diagnosed with PTSD and took a leave of absence from work. I had to. I couldn't function.

I went to stay with my brother and his new wife for a couple of weeks. It may have saved my life. At least according to the professionals. No, I wasn't suicidal. Never have been. But stress, when it's severe and prolonged, begins to shut down the various systems of the body. That is what was happening to me. Please, please, don't ever let yourself go as long as I did under that kind of stress.

Here is something else. I hadn't seen my brother in years. Why is not important. But when my life fell into crisis I called him and asked if he could come out and help me with a few things. He did. He flew out and it was so wonderful to see him again and reconnect. Both our parents died years ago and we only have each other from our original family. When his flight landed I looked at the board and realized that he was landing on the anniversary of our mother's death, 18 years ago. And his flight landed at the exact time she died: 1:30 in the afternoon. It gave me chills. I think she was bringing us back together.

It wasn't a week after he left that I fell apart. Just fell. I called him in tears and asked if I could come out. He didn't even hesitate. He bought tickets for me and the kids and flew us out. For two weeks I did nothing but rest and they took care of the kids and me and it was so healing. How do you thank someone for something like that?

Then, when I came home, I had this amazing experience where I saw myself in that mirror. I saw that I was beautiful and that my life mattered and it changed me. I didn't think it would last, but it has. When I slip up and forget something or make a mistake, I wait for the negative self-talk to kick in like it always has, but instead there is silence. It's just not there. I just feel...confident. I think I've discovered my inner Towanda.

I'm still not completely healed. I still get overwhelmed easily. I still get that brain fog and fatigue that comes with PTSD. I worry a bit about all the excitement of the first week in Sydney. Media appearances, a speech, a blog reading, meeting a gazillion incredible people. But it will all be okay.

I'm so unprepared for this trip. I should probably care, but I don't. I just threw a bunch of random stuff in my suitcase and called it good. I have our passports, I have my sparkly bra, I have the candy. That's all I need, right? I'm sure the housesitters will be tripping over piles of stuff I left out in conspicuous spots to make sure I wouldn't forget them.

Anyway, we're off on the first leg of our trip. I'm actually writing this post from a McDonald's parking lot in Podunk, Kansas. I'll be arriving in Sydney Monday morning. Woogsie had something come up and can't make it to the airport, so if you're bored feel free to come show up at Sydney International and we can go grab a coffee. It's an inconvenient time (8:30 a.m. plus an hour for me to get through customs) and I'm happy to take the train, but it would be fun to see a friendly face. I'll be the one with the red suitcase and the tired, but happy eyes.

Oh, and my tits shine.

Adios Kansas!