They’re both finally over. The party is a post all to itself.

But I’ll give you a hint:

This was our CAKE! Yes that is a cake!

ANTWAY!

The conference was in San Diego and it was one of those amazing chances to say THANK YOU to the people that have been such a big part of the recovery process.

It was a bit embarrassing to have people talk about me like I was something special when I knew the truth was that I would probably sell your soul for a Kit Kat bar.

But it was MY chance to tell people that “you’ve made a difference to me”. “You’ve impacted my existence.” “You changed my world.” “You’re in my way and I’ve got to go the bathroom.”

Some more meaningfully than others.

So expect more posts about the party, people and conference.

But, for now, I have to go love on my family.

Last year, Peter and I got on a plane and flew to NY to be at my first event post-strokes.

NY was loud, it smelled funky and being able to be there was glorious.

Being anywhere was glorious.

Since that time I’ve been to:

Asheville

Tampa

Nashville

New Orleans

California

Detroit

with plans to be in Denver and L.A.

This isn’t a post to brag about all the traveling I’ve done this year.

It’s about reminding people: YOU ARE ONLY AS LIMITED AS YOU LET YOURSELF BE.

I’m in a wheelchair.

I snore.

I have a weird schedule.

I’m a chronic over-packer.

Nobody’s idea of a dream traveler.

I’m also weird-looking with my crooked face and taped glasses.

Conferences are difficult because they’re loud and it’s hard to hear or be heard.

Because handicapped bathrooms are hard to find in hotel EVERYONE has seen my girly hair….to the point I’m thinking of having the Batsignal waxed there to keep it interesting.

Point is, talk to that person, go to that place, try out that thing, do that stuff, laugh with that stranger.

Whether you’re at BlogHer or the car wash.

Leave feeling GLORIOUS.

Best,

Anissa

p.s. Your skirt is tucked in your underwear.

Pete said this other day when we were talking about a lot of things that needed SOMETHING.

I have this site and Aiming Low that I’m building up.

25 writers I love talking to each day.

We’re organizing events at BlogHer and TypeAParent.

The freelance thing I do.

I’m building another site with Faiqa and Janet.

There’s meetings to build up the business-side of things.

I’m always mom to the three most fascinating people EVER.

I’m married to the one guy who makes a world with no coffee worth….well….no one could make THAT work, but he IS pretty cool.

Dr Pain.

Electrifying myself.

Making things that don’t want to still have to.

Then there’s the book I agreed to write.

Speaking at conferences and travel.

Sometimes I miss those naps. And stay up too late. Try to squeeze a few more minutes into my day.

And I’m tired.

I have to remind myself that my body can’t take constant pressure.

It can’t handle the reckless speed I used to throw myself into everything.

I have to be more careful.

I have to be selfish.

It starts with naps.

I will own them again.

My mom would turn red at the curses that mentally came out of me at having crooked lenses and arm pieces that snagged my hair.

I went to BlogHer.  I wore them every day. I ate at a Atlanta meet-up.

I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. They were crooked and they were cloudy.

I felt bad considering I’d just gotten these glasses, my first pair, a few months ago.

Practically new.

The appointment took hours.  I had the full eye exam, complete with whining kids and snapping parents. Pete helped me pick a pair of frames.

He had to help me pick a pair.

First, I couldn’t see at all with the glasses with no leses.

Second, the eye doctor gave me news I had to digest.

My vision was improving.

The left eye that didn’t move had started to move. That was HUGE news.

It was what they had said would happen.

My vision was slowly healing with the exercises and training.

It was working.

I got my new glasses.  With their new lenses.

And new prescriptions.

The hope inside me that I’ll be back in a few months.

That I’ll need a new pair of glasses then.