Because it’s ok to be proud of yourself.
So I did this thing once. I wrote a book. I’ve never considered myself a writer and I still don’t, not really. Nevertheless I wrote a book. I wrote it because I couldn’t not write it. It was just something I had to do. I don’t think I could have stopped myself if I tried. My husband Dan was the writer, he wrote beautifully and eloquently. I remember I used to write things like our Christmas letters because I had the time. In them I would say something like "we went to Crater Lake this summer it was cool" then I would give it to Dan to edit and he would turn that into a whole paragraph about the beauty and majesty of God’s creation and the love of our family. I said it was cool, that was the extent of my writing. Then he died. Out of no where in the middle of the night he died. My soulmate, my true love, the man I was happily going spend the next 70 years with was gone. My life as over at 34. I didn’t know what to do. I did know I needed therapy, lots and lots of thera...