Thinning hair and all.
Oh, to feel like myself.
Instead of being depressed, maybe hopeful. Instead of feeling confused, feeling capable. Instead of crying most of the day, maybe just a few minutes every now and then when I need to. The old Gina was strong, and knew her mind. She was organized at home, and loved reading and doing crafty things. She was engaged in her life, not an unwilling participant. She had opinions and thoughts and strived for expressing herself fully. She had Mark, but she also had herself.
I'm getting there.
