Best and Worst

One of my friends asked a question to start preparing a blog post. She does these from time to time. My response made me soar and then cry and so I thought I would share it here.

The question was what were the best and worst days of your life.

The best day of my life was the day I fell in love with my body. My body is the only thing I have. It powers my mind, it runs my life, it is everything. I spent years believing it was just a thing that I used, but I didn't value it. Valuing it was vain and dirty and wrong. But when I looked at myself and saw that I wanted me. That I was worth wanting. I buzzed in the revelry of being alive. And from that moment, though there are times when my body fails me, I want it and I value it and I expect others to do the same. And that gives me a power that was kept from me by people who tell lies.

The worst day of my life wasn't the day my father was diagnosed with cancer. It wasn't the day he died. It wasn't his funeral. It wasn't the first of every holiday or life event or whatever without him. It was the day I discovered that I was friends with my mother and that I would never be friends with my father.