A friend I met on Sanibel Island quite a few years ago, who later became my boss, at a job I absolutely adored, called me today.

I haven’t spoken to her since hurricane Ian ravaged our islands and homes and storm surge caused unspoken devastation to every single standing building.

She is fine. Her family is fine. Her spirit seemed brighter than before.

Her adored bookstore; however, her pride and joy, her every little ounce of energy, and my beloved job, washed away into the ocean like a piece of driftwood.

She is a force to be reckoned with.

She spoke six simple words to me as tears flowed down my helpless face.

“You forgot you are a warrior.”

And holy shit, have I forgotten.

I guess the death and the abuse and the loss of friends, and the not knowing or trusting more than five people on this earth, the pandemic, the “thinking you’re finally on the right path” and then getting knocked back down wasn’t enough of a reminder.

Universe brought in the big guns.

I am grateful. DEAR LORD, I fared extremely well during the storm. The new place I’ve come to know as “home” had minimal damage and for that I owe the universe my undivided attention.

I have met people on the island and off that have become my family. They did not fare well. Roofs peeled off their homes like tin cans, water so deep that sludge inundated their homes, businesses gone, cars gone, bridges ripped in half like sheets of rice paper. Mother nature reminding us of who’s boss.

I’ve often been called an empath. And a fixer. Been called a wife twice, and a girlfriend many times. My most favorite is when someone called me a quitter after walking away from a situation that almost killed me. And for this reason, I hate labels. They feel restrictive, confining, dull, detaining. And lord knows how much I hate being detained. My freedom has become, as painful and scary as it can feel sometimes, my superpower.

I have a hard time setting boundaries for fear I may want to cross them one day and won’t be able to.

Yep, it’s that bad.

My new town that I was falling in love in and with, is currently a war zone.

Even walking down the street makes my stomach feel like the world is ending.

“Armageddon.”

I’ll tell you a secret.

Even armageddon doesn’t mean the “end.”

It is a place where the last battle of good and evil will be fought.

A war zone.

I have chosen to fight for the good.

I have helped clean up and take out moldy mattresses and knee-deep sludge out of an 80 year-old woman’s home. I have bleached and tarped and cried with people I barely know. Oh my goodness have I seen the good in people. Bringing free food and supplies to those who lost it all. Housing people living in tents. Simple hugs to those who coudnt breathe at the thought of having nothing left. I have done the absolute best I could with the resources I have. I have cried over the people who aren’t mature enough or strong enough to use real resources to help. I have fought endlessly and helplessly to make people see stubbornness and pride.

I have been jealous and petty and useless.

I have even thought about moving backwards. Sheltering my kids and succumbing to suffering myself for the rest of my life for the sake of a “safe” space. I’ve thought of leaving it all behind. I’ve had the worst of all worst thoughts.

But you know what?

FUCK THAT.

I forgot that I AM A WARRIOR.

And, you know what?

SO HAVE YOU.

This is it people. Whether you’ve weathered the storm, or lost it all or are living in other parts of the world that are war stricken, it’s time.

Choose good.

Choose evil.

But never ever choose backwards.

My mother’s last words imprinted on my body and my soul are “Move forward”

She knew, as most warriors do.

As I do.

It’s time to rebuild. Do it however you have to. Leave for a bit or forever. Choose freedom as love. DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO TO HEAL. Who cares what anyone thinks or does, simply use the resources you have for the greater good. And keep your eyes forward.

It’s time to end the battle and make the comeback better than the setback.

Nothing easy is ever worth it.

And in the words of my mentor and sweet friend, if anyone asks if you’re ok..it’s ok to stop saying you’re ok.

You can simply answer:

I’m moving forward.

Or, better yet:

I’m winning the battle.

Onward.