Air Therapy

I've had some bad days in my life.  The day I said "I love you" to my Dad for the first time in ever (and the last time) and he just looked at me and walked out the door without a word.  The day my fiancé broke up with me and I found out he'd been cheating on me.  The day I crashed an airplane, fortunate to survive it, and the weeks/months that followed when people called me "Crash Queen".  The day my husband was arrested at midnight and led out of our home in handcuffs and I couldn't talk about it with anyone.  The day my son was diagnosed with a terminal illness and I got to spend the next year watching him die.  The day my second son was diagnosed with SMA too, and I lost him.  The day my son died in my arms.  These are some of the memorable bad days I've had.  I have a new one to add to the list, and it was a whopper.  The day I visited my 20 year old daughter in a loony bin, with a nurse guarding the room, perched on furniture decep...

I had a blog titled "Flight Following" back in like 2011, on which I would post things, mostly flights, that I didn't want to make public. A place where I could talk about how scared I was on that "Ice Almost Killed Me" flight, where I could talk out how inadequate I felt in the world of formation flying, or where I could brag about how studly I felt but couldn't say out loud in public, things I wanted to get off my mind and onto "paper", like "Dear Diary", but I wanted to make sure nobody else saw.  I let that blog be inactive for so long that apparently they got rid of it, which is irritating, because I'd like to retrieve some of those posts.  But for now, I'm starting over, here, now.