This post is for Jenny Lawson. If you follow her blog, it will make perfect sense. If you don’t, go there, get caught up on the last few years, and then come back.
Dear Jenny,
I was reading your post last night about taking Rory to visit fun and exotic places and I thought, Hey! He can visit my blog. Sure, it’s no sandy beach, but we do have beer and we won’t mind if he sheds.
So I’ve been following you for some time and wanted to share with you my own furiously happy story.
I’ve had some dark and twisty times in my life but I had come out the other side and I think I was legitimately furiously happy. You know, more than anyone has a right to be. And then about 7 months ago, my mama died…and she was kind of my everything.
And then I wasn’t furiously happy anymore.
I’ve been anxious and moody. Furiously sad at times. And sometimes just furious (because when your mom just turned 67 and is the picture of health, you’re allowed to be angry when her heart suddenly stops for no good reason).
And I read all of your posts and I realized that your own roller coaster ride has been giving you more downs than ups lately, and I can relate. And we seem to be on this journey to be whole.
But, you know what? I’m not whole and I never will be again. Because, basically, I’m a three-legged dog.
But I realized…I’ve seen some pretty fucking happy three-legged dogs. I can’t tell if they forgot they had a leg there, or if they remember but are just so stoked to still have enough legs to allow them to run and chase balls that they are willing to overlook what’s missing.
This is a picture of my friend’s three-legged dog (used without permission – sorry, Mike). Anyway, pretty sure he’s my spirit animal.
Either way, they seem furiously happy. And that’s my goal: To be a furiously happy, three-legged dog.
And thanks for leading this merry band of misfits. ❤
Erin Lyon 