Do you live your life or simply exist?

I ask this out of sheer facetiousness, as I know most of my friends reading this are some of the most active, vivacious people I know (hence our friendship!). The sheer flurry of activity on my Facebook and Twitter newsfeeds on any given morning is astounding...friends in New York, Egypt, South Africa, Australia, Denmark, Germany, Israel, east coast, west coast, communes in the mountains, farms on the eastern shore, some gritty start-up in Detroit....my friends are GOERS and DOERS.

To my new readers....are you?

Little story (since I'm just so egocentric and am in the mood to talk about my favorite topic...meeeee!) about when I decided to open up and live my life to its fullest.

Four years ago I was a returning student. I had just had my son, John, and decided to quit my comfortable gov't contracting job and return to college and finish my degree.

This was Step 1 in what I'll call the Butterfly Process.  At this point, I was still firmly and completely a caterpillar.

When I returned to school, the most social interaction I'd previously had was with other Navy wives at arranged playdates.  Other than that, I drove to school, stayed only long enough for my class, and came home to dutifully clean, cook, and care for my children.

And I was going.....banana sandwich.

I wanted to stay after class and discuss with other students. I wanted to reach out and make friends (there were quite a number of returning students, many of them fellow veterans, at ODU).

Then I was hit by a truck (figuratively, of course).  During class one day, my phone "blew up", as the kids say. Buzzing, buzzing...I was in my favorite class with Dr. Mourao and didn't want to disrupt, so I turned the ringer off completely without looking at the screen.  I left class...it was a chillly, windy spring day and I was wearing a brand new jacket I had gotten for my birthday...a black, vintage swing coat. I got in my car and pulled out of the parking garage before remembering the phone calls.  I glanced at the screen and saw several SC numbers, highlighted one, and pressed send.  I was then navigating traffic from the campus and turning on to Hampton Boulevard, the main avenue cutting through ODU and wrapping around through downtown Norfolk.

I made a left as I listen to the phone ring.  Adjusted my mirrors as she picked up. Careened into the sidewalk as she began talking. Felt my hands go numb as her words flooded through me...like that feeling the first time you take a shot of whiskey.  Heat, then cold, numb, then sick. Vaguely heard horns around me and saw a light pole just feet front my front bumper, angled as my tire was propped on the curb.

We all go through life choosing shirts, sniffing perfume, fighting with friends over perceived slights, listening to good music, making fun of bad music, wondering about our fiber intake, trying different diets, different meditations, and one thing none of us expect is Death.  It hits us like a ton of bricks every time, even when you see it coming..but this time, we didn't.  No one expects a 26 year old man to just...die. To be gone. To be forever...just..gone.

[Insert factual fill-in here...the deceased was Lee, my first husband, my first love, and the father of my son, Grayson.  Due to marrying young and the strains of being a military family, we had amicably decided to part ways after only two years of marriage. He still was, and is, the first resident of my heart. He was killed in an auto accident.]

I'll skim through the next year, because it's ugly.  I hid within myself, sleeping during the day while the kids were in daycare, skipping classes, puking some, crying into a lot of towels, blankets, whatever I could shove my face into.  I had never, ever felt such raw and intense hurt in my life, and let me tell you, friend, I have been through a lot of shit (subscribe to the blog...you'll see :) ).  About a year later, after quite a few rounds with a therapist and settling on a reasonable visitation schedule with Lee's family after many terribly ugly courtroom scenes, I woke up one morning...it was a morning in March, and felt...peaceful.  I felt OK. I felt, for the first time, that it was going to be OK.  I went to school and began reaching out.  What is there to DOOOO?

I was given a suggested volunteer role (and I can't remember for the life of me who suggested it, because I would kiss them...it changed my life). Pouring wine for a benefit party in the illustrious Went Ghent home of a glam couple, local yogi Logan and her hipster cum editor/magazine owner partner, Jesse for a local gay pride organization.  It was the most random decision of my life, and apparently one in which I let some other force take the oars and row my boat....right into destiny's hands.

The event was beautiful...swanky in a deliciously chill, low-key way. I spilled red wine on a white tablecloth and almost splashed Michael Hamar, local attorney and blogger. I met one of my very best friends, Tony, who has since become like a family  member (the kids call him Uncle Tony) that night.  But above all, I witnessed something I had never seen before: an inside look at the gay community.  I was intrigued, humbled, curious, and left with the seed implanted in my brain that began to dig roots and grow faster than anything I could remember.

Within one year, I was helping organize protests for marriage equality outside the local military base and City Hall, as well as sitting on the Board of Directors for that very LGBT organization (and writing occasionally for that awesome rag of Jesse's). Within a couple of years, I was sitting on the highest dune in Ocean View with some of these dear friends, who had become my closest and best supporters, bidding goodbye to this magical time and place as I shoved off on the voyage of my next adventure.

Housewife to local activist, someone to whom people listened in cocktail parties, community meetings, someone who was asked to speak at events and my voice would raise above the crowd and settle down on waiting ears....ears...waiting..to hear me.  It was not exhilarating inasmuch as it was terrifying and humbling.  What words were coming out?  What words were defining me?  Were my words inspiring these people? Were my words helping bring about ch

It all started in Death.  The Death opened the door for me, it illuminated an entirely new path, a new way of thinking, and new life where I grab it by the horns, where I take the road less taken, and I march forth into uncharted territory and discover new lands. New friends. New hurts. New joys.

Do you live your life or simply exist?  Don't do what I did and wait...wait for a terrifically horrible tragedy to get you off your ass and on to your destiny.  Get up now and go for it.  Yes, you have a lot to lose, but you also have a lot to gain.