Best, Worst, and Moving On

What was the best day of your life? You know, the day that you never expected or the day that you thought would be tough but turned out to be amazing. The event or series of moments where you felt that you were in your element, on your game, and enjoyed yourself beyond belief?

For me it was the day I married Hubbie (aka: Wood).

In contrast to that, what was the worst day of your life? The most horrible, awful, gut wrenching day which you were sure that you would never survive? Or looking back, the event or day that when you replay it and understand the consequence, wonder if you will survive its outcome? Or at least it's potential outcome?

I'm not sure I've had it yet. But if I had to choose one, I'd have to say it was the day that my behavior altered the way that Wood and I relate to each other. It was the day that I yelled at him out of fear, loneliness, and a dark postpartum depression, and with no real provocation. It changed him and it changed me. It makes me sad because I am the cause of our bad communication patterns. Don't get me wrong, I am not, not, not saying that I am alone in this periodic communication breakdown. We both behave badly on occasion. But I started it.

Now we work toward going back to the pre-family days of easy communication, rested bodies, fulfilled social lives, and blissful ignorance. It's hard work. Maybe that's why it's called committment.