heart beat

In January when I closed my Facebook account I said I was going to focus on my blogs.  Well, clearly that did not happen.
I taught myself how to knit and crochet again.  I cooked.  I baked.  My life was taken over by Pinterest but at least I was being creative. Rocco had the coolest home made valentines in his class.  Steven got a hand knit scarf that winter.  And I kept myself busy creating new things in the kitchen.
But I miss blogging.  I love writing.  But in order to write I need to have something to say.  I remember my sister telling me when I started my blog that "blogs become books".  We will see.
So, today I was flooded with some memories that have stayed with me all day.  I've been reflecting on my past and comparing it to my future.  Not in a critical way.  And I hope I never stop seeing change.
I was in cycle class this morning.  It is hard.  It continues to be hard even though I have been cycling once or twice a week since I had Rocco.
Three songs into class my heart was pounding. I was very well aware of my heart.  It made me think of all of the years I  spent in the past fearful of that beat.  Focused on that rhythm.
I was starving myself.  Throwing up.  Smoking cigarettes.  Doing drugs,  Drinking daily.  Consuming mass amounts of coffee.
My heart was abused.  It stopped.  It skipped beats.  It pounded.  It fluttered.
Sometimes I wondered when it was going to stop for good.  How long was I going to get away with living like this?  There were times I wanted to die.  Not bad enough to take my own life.  But I often thought God would just spare me one of those awful nights and end it all.  Peacefully in my sleep.  My heart would just stop beating.
I was aware of my heart when I had just finished my fourth 20 oz cup of coffee for the day.
I would notice my heart after I snorted a few lines of cocaine with nothing in my body but red wine for 24 hours.
I would notice my heart when I was making myself throw up for the 4th time that day.  After breakfast.
I noticed it when I would have to walk any length or lift something. Because I was weak. Feeble.  Dying.
I noticed my heart when it pumped like a machine gun in the middle of an anxiety attack that was most likely induced by alcohol withdrawal and starvation.
It amazes me that when I see doctors they tell me I'm the 'picture of perfect health'.
Today I am tremendously grateful I have done no damage to my heart.
It skips once in a while.  It flutters from time to time.  But I have a mild thyroid issue and was told it is pretty common.
I am not focused on my heartbeat anymore.  It feels good when it pounds.  I'm usually excited about something.  It is usually a sign that I am working my body.  Something I am actually able to do today.
I am not going to die.  Nor do I want to.  I want to live a long time.
Because today I have love in my heart.  Mind blowing, over the top, joyous, magnificent, magical love.  Love for things.  Love for people.  Love for food.  Love for God.
Love for life.