Thinning hair and all.
Oh, to feel like myself again.
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 the main driver in her life, not an unwilling participant. She had strong opinions and thoughts and expected to be able to express herself fully. She had Mark, but she also had herself.
I'm getting there.
