The word of the day is

Progress.

I messed my back up over the weekend and ignored it.

I ignored it until Monday morning when I sat down to have my cup of coffee and very definitely couldn't get back up.

By Monday evening I was flat on my back with my knees in the air contemplating when that particular spider had made himself a trail across my ceiling.

Tuesday I sneezed once and knew in my soul that death would've been easier.

Thursday I sneezed again and would've only preferred a toe removal at best.

Progress.

Now I sit (really, I'm laying because sitting feels like I have angered the troll whose job it is to hold my ample rear end and my hips together but sitting just sounds better in this sentence) realizing that progress has been happening in me for a few months now.

When it didn't matter how pretty he was because every moment together felt empty and I walked away dry eyed.

Progress.

When I accepted that not being able to work out was resulting in the loss of a body I had worked really hard for but I had to stop anyway.

That was progress.

When I learned to stop being baited into endless arguments just because my attention was guaranteed.

Silence was progress.

When my old shadows came flooding back and I was able to avoid them once or twice.

Even baby steps are progress.

Holding my children to the standards they set for themselves rather than the bar I invariably raised over their heads.

Basic Dr. Seuss progress.

And, when I finally spoke into the darkness the words I had never said aloud knowing it would permanently change the way he looked at me.

Letting someone witness that fall was major progress.

Learning that it only takes an inch to show you're moving in any direction - and moving is everything.

Progress.

Soon, I'll be back to full, upright, non Neanderthal posture.

And that, I assure you, will be welcomed progress.

To the people who will one day break my daughters' hearts,

These are my girls.  My flesh and blood, walking on their own two feet, unique and beautiful people.  And, one day, you will wander by and decide to stay awhile.  It'll be great and you and I will hopefully be friends and get along great.  We will all hope to make it a lifelong union - you, her, and distantly me.

Unfortunately, there's a chance you will break her heart.  Or she will decimate yours.  Either way, you and my girl will break up.  It will be sad for both of you, and maybe even for me.

Maybe she will be the one at fault and maybe she won't.  Maybe you will have destroyed who she was as a person or maybe you won't.  Maybe it will be fast and loud and maybe it will be drawn out and bitter.

Either way, you will be on the outside.

Doesn't matter if you and I have bonded over cars or fishing or the color of the blissful morning sky.  Won't matter if she set your house on fire or snuck off with your brother or robbed your bank at gunpoint.

I will be on her side.  

Because there is absolutely nothing anyone could do to turn me against my daughters and toward a stranger.  Nothing.

She is mine, for more than better or worse richer or poorer in sickness and in health.

She is my daughter.  Nothing comes between that and certainly not some man who broke her into a million pieces, neglected his children and destroyed their peace.  Nothing.

I can promise you this from where I sit this morning, regardless of the backs turned to me today.

No, I can promise this because of them.