Cheers! 2015 is Here.

I know there is no shortage of New Years posts popping up in the blogmosphere but I thought I would add mine to the mix nonetheless. If you are an avid blog reader, no doubt you have seen the year in reviews, the New Year New You posts and the 2015 resolution lists.  I have loved reading them and find them very inspiring.

The majority of the posts that I've read have been upbeat, optimistic and very gushing with memories of the year past. A few have been brazenly brave and honest about the heartaches, the disappointments and the dreams left unfulfilled.

I've had a year of both extremes and I would love to share my '2014 in a nutshell' with you.

I'm often guarded about these extremes. The good sounds too braggy at times and the bad ..well, sometimes it can be a bit much. I guess I fear laying it on too thick and constantly revisiting the old, dead horse.

Today, I'm giving myself permission to let it all out and trust in my never wavering faith that there is grace in heartache and beauty in pain. I hope that when I write about the moments that have brought me to my knees, I am able to convey them with an absence of self pity or despair.

So if you have a few minutes, get comfortable. I need to get a few things off my chest.

I was pregnant for four days. 

Actually, I knew I was pregnant for four days. I was technically pregnant for about two weeks (four weeks if you count it the wacky way doctors do). It all happened last month and it's still very confusing and emotional for me. Oddly, it's not really a sad emotion - I got over the sadness pretty quickly. It's more this sharp edged disappointment that jabs me on a near daily basis.

It's hard for me not to think that I suck at being a girl.

It's hard for me to stop thinking about how I can't make a baby and I can't keep a baby.

Truth is, I can make a baby. I did make a baby. I'm working on the 'keeping' it part.

I'm 40, definitely not a deal breaker as far as fertility goes in this day and age. But it's very clear that my clock is on it's last ticks.

My dog has a stage 4  hemangiosacrcoma cancer that has an average survival time of 2 months. 

It's been a horrendous and heartbreaking year going through this with my sweet pup. She is amazing though, I call her my little warrior dog.

If you told me ahead of time that I would have to endure this with her, I would have probably told you to shut your face. That there was no possible way I could handle watching her spend 12 days in a hospital, fighting for her life. To carry her home from chemotherapy visits every three weeks. To walk away from from her while she was in an oxygen tank using every single bit of her energy to get on her back legs with her paws on the plexiglass, yelping for me and Curtis to not leave her.

No possible way.

But we did it. And she did it. She did it in such a big way.

Fannie is the happiest, healthiest sick dog you will ever meet. Today, she has so much energy and is bouncing off the walls with happiness.

She's not cured. The chemo is only palliative but she has taught me the biggest lesson in gratitude and taking each day and squeezing every bit of love out of it.

We will probably have to say goodbye to her this year and the thought of that makes me want to loose my mind.

Fannie is 3 months post surgery and she is kicking that average survival time in the gonads.

My father is 82 and I am 2000 miles away.

I don't want to regret my actions in life but I have a feeling if I don't change the way I reach out to my friends and family, I'm going to regret quite a bit.

Sometimes, I fear I'm not a very good friend/daughter/sister. Actually, that's not exactly true. I'm amazing if you want loyal, accepting and unconditional.

I'm awful about reaching out and keeping in touch.

The exception is my dad, who I call every Sunday. This past year I've noticed that he only stays on the phone with me for a few short minutes before handing the phone off to my mom. This makes me very sad and I'm not exactly sure why it's happening. His hearing doesn't seem to be getting any worse and he sounds happy to hear from me. I feel uncomfortable thinking about asking him directly because I fear it will make him unnecessarily self-conscious.

Like any concerned daughter, I worry about how happy my father is. His life is comfortable but very routine. In the past few years, he has lost all but one of his friends. He spends Friday afternoons with his remaining friend and I know that if he looses him, a part of my father will also slip away.

What am I going to do when I am no longer my father's daughter.

*** The Sweets ***

We have exceeded our financial goals and I have an incredibly hard working husband.

Every year we set financial goals for ourselves and for the past several years we have exceeded them. We continue to increase our salaries and have positioned ourselves very well for our future.

We have come so far from layoffs and debt. From poor choices and overspending. It's been a long and arduous battle and I am proud of what we have accomplished.

My husband's work ethic is mesmerizing, logging in crazy hours and balancing a pretty needy wife at the same time.

I'm changing.

I suppose this could be good or bad. For me, it's all good. 2014 brought about a much more confident me. I'm much less concerned about how I am perceived and what others think. Knowing this hasn't made me rough around the edges or callous. Instead, I'm more direct in a very true and gentle way. I think it's a rare form to be painfully honest with a soft touch and I'm honing that skill with every opportunity.

If this is a perk to aging, I'll take it!

The view from here looks so sweet.

Whatever 2015 holds, I am wildly optimistic that I will continue to grow and love and be better. I know there will be difficult and painful days this year, probably more painful than I can imagine as I type this. We have a saying in law enforcement -- 'it's not if, it's when'. That has always filled me with intense dread in the past, but I'm comforted in knowing that I don't carry my pain alone.

Thank you for being here and reading.

For all the hopes and goals you have this year, consider me your silent cheerleader.

Happy 2015 to us!