Returning to a Life of Miracles.
Even more, I'm writing my memoir of a Life of Miracles.
I told one of my best friends this, yesterday, and she said, 'Why?' She genuinely couldn't see the point.
Ten years ago my (now ex) agent said, 'Nobody wants to hear about you dear.'
Well, it doesn't matter if they don't want to hear, because I have a voice and I've realised that I want to speak. We all have a voice and we all have a right to speak. It is in the speaking that the power resides and it is in the overcoming what they think that we can begin to thrive.
I want to talk about being engaged at 32 and widowed at 33. I want to talk about having a life-changing encounter with a giant barracuda. I want to talk about riding on the back of a Bengal tiger. I want to talk about emigrating to Montana for a whole 11 months and being the first person in the world legally to get a dog from the USA to the UK without quarantine.
I want to talk about giving up my home and losing all my money, about working through debt, getting through divorce, loving again and about learning to round myself out and owning myself. I want to be amazed at all the miracles (and tragedies) of my life and to share them with anyone who might just want to hear about me.
And I want to talk about God. And how, in the midst of tragedy, dispossession and grief, I knew that I was going to find God, nail His shoes to the floor and ask Him what he meant by it all. I had to understand why and how all this made sense.
I am not going to blame, bitch or push against. It is what it is and it's wonderfully okay.
If you want to join me, you'll be very welcome. But I'm going to write it anyway.