"Only in my pain did I find my will. Only in my chaos did I learn to be still. Only in my fear did I find my might. Only in my darkness did I see my light." - T.M.T

What do you see when you look in the mirror?

Do you see a sparkle in your eye? The wonderful curve of your hip? The power in your strong legs? The optimism, passion and joy radiating through your smile? Maybe even a shy sexiness you may not admit to anyone else out loud?

I used to see those things when I looked in the mirror.

When I went through cancer treatment, I added "warrior" to the list of what I saw in the mirror.

Somewhere along the way though, the image reflecting back at me started to become distorted.

The sparkle in my eye was dulled by the pain inside. The curve of my hip started to look too big. Those legs looked flabby and gross. That smile only seemed to highlight the plain, fat face looking back at me, and radiated only doubt and shame. And that shy sexiness was slowly replaced with self loathing.

It got hard to look in the mirror.

For someone who talks (and loves to talk) as much as I do, going to see someone to sort through my head space has never been an issue. Not so this time. I felt alone.

I have a huge, loyal friend circle. A wonderful, supportive hubby and equally supportive family. Two amazing kids. A good job. Beat the cancer odds.

What could I possibly be upset about?

So I pulled back. I binge drank. I smiled on the outside.

But I was dying on the inside.

Just over a month ago, Phil (my hubby) sat me down, and we had the first real heart to heart in while. He was concerned about the binge drinking (that was getting worse) but he knew something was very wrong inside. Maybe it was the way he approached it. Maybe I had hit my limit. Maybe it was the love and concern I saw in his eyes. But I finally opened up, and he held me while I cried the pain I had been trying (unsuccessfully) to hide.

We decided no more booze until my head was screwed back on straight. He agreed to not drink beer (cause honestly wine and hard stuff are not my jam) or have it in the house to support my decision to clear my head and let me sit with my pain and not try to numb it.

It's been over a month since that decision, and I'm feeling a lot better. I still haven't brought myself to pick up the phone and make an appointment to go talk to someone. Professionally.

Me, not wanting to talk?? This is NOT normal for me... (but I'll write a blog and put a spotlight on my darkest fears and insecurities for the world to see?? ya I know, I know, doesn't make rational sense but I've never really been a super logical person ha ha)

When I was writing this blog through my cancer treatment, it really helped me to process some of the really hard parts. I'm not sure if I stopped writing cause it got too hard, or if it got too hard so I stopped writing.

But here I am.

The insecure, dark part of me is terrified of putting this out there incase it's really only me and no one else can relate and everyone will just judge and laugh at me for being so dumb. Confirming my worst fears.

My logical side urged me to put this out there because I am definitely not the only person who can relate, is feeling this way, or has felt this way at some point. I discovered how therapeutic writing is for me. So I'm going with my instincts, and on International Women's Day, deciding to share my story as I do the hard things, and walk through my fire. 

A wise woman named Martha Krejci  said this weekend (at an amazing event I attended) that the fires we talk through in life (big challenges) become our Bat Signal to others with whom it resonates with. She also believes its our DUTY when we come out on the other side of the fire, to reach back in and pull the next person out.

So here I go, taking a (SCARY!) step into my fire and sending out my bat signal in doing so.

Maybe you're in a similar fire, and we can walk through it together.

I'm terrified. But I'm ready.

Today's the day I re-write the negative stories I've been telling myself into a story that empowers, excited and uplifts me every time I look in the mirror.

My Inner Ninja is waking back up.