Why do I always seem to write later at night when I write here. Okay, here goes. One Step, One Word. That’s all it takes to start, deep breaths Sumo, it can be difficult, but at the end of the day, the change is worth it. That’s all it takes to begin again, even when the first steps seem impossible. Today, today has been hard, but I need to keep moving forward.

How do you deal with the love of your life choosing to leave you while you’re in the hospital? How do you deal with someone who decides to leave you while you’re trying not to die? How do you deal with not even knowing until you’re home and you ask to look at their phone for something else and find out she planned on leaving you in just a couple weeks, but then you went in the hospital? No sign, nothing but love until the day you learn the truth. What’s worse, I’ve finally found support to do the things I always asked her for, and I’m down a hundred pounds in seven months. I want to scream this from the rooftop! But how can I when I’m missing a part of myself?

It can be so hard to find the words, to express the full weight of that kind of betrayal and loss. It’s not that I don’t have things to say – I have a torrent of emotions raging inside. But finding the right words, arranging them in a way that feels honest and true, feels impossible right now. It’s like trying to write with a missing limb. That’s part of why I started a YouTube channel. It’s not that video is easier – in fact, I feel more exposed there. It’s a different kind of vulnerability, a rawness that forces me to confront my feelings in a way I haven’t before. But I know that’s the only way to grow, to find my voice again, both on screen and, eventually, here, in writing. I’m hoping, by facing that exposure, I can eventually craft a truly visceral experience for you, a story that reflects the full spectrum of pain and, hopefully, resilience.

It’s like I’ve lost a limb – not in an accident, but as if the limb itself, something I cared for and trusted, decided to detach and walk away. How do you write when a part of you feels severed? How do you hold the pen, the metaphorical sword and shield of a writer, when the strength, the confidence, has been ripped away?

And the irony is, I have things to celebrate. I’ve found the support to achieve goals I’ve always dreamed of. I want to shout my success from the rooftops, but the voice feels choked, the celebration hollowed out by this gaping absence.

All I can tell you is that forward is better than backward. Taking the steps necessary to continue to strive to grow will always be more powerful and confidence building than letting life pass you by. You can lament the loss of your arm, or you can thank the universe for leaving you alive to continue to strive. You’ll be amazed what you can do when you believe in yourself, and understand just how much power you give to others. Life is meant to be loved, even if you do enjoy watching from the sidelines. Take the bull by the horns, even if you only have one arm, and chase your dreams. You only fail when you chose to quit. Until then, you’ll always have a chance. Even if you only do it one step a day. The arm may be gone, but the Sumo spirit remains. One word, one step, at a time.

And remember, you can lead a horse to water, you can try to teach it to drink, but only it can decide if it will swim or sink.