Today is the one year anniversary of me moving into my house. That might not seem such an exciting announcement, but to me it is a big deal. In these past twelve months, everything has changed for me. I bear almost no resemblance to the me I was then. I’m doing things and taking for granted things that I wouldn’t even have dared dream a year ago.
In the past twelve months I have regained control over my life. I’ve had a short story published, and have written and submitted dozens more. I’m over 30 000 words into my first novel, and am well on my way to completing NaNo.
This time last year, as I packed up my few belongings and my sleepy son, I had no idea what the future held. I didn’t really have any plans. I daren’t, just getting from one day to the next was a big enough feat. Yet, here I am. Somehow I’ve managed to pull things together. Somehow, I’ve turned myself from a victim to a survivor. Of course, life isn’t perfect, but it’s mine.