As a teenager, I suffered from anorexia. Later, I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. As an adult, I was in an auto accident which resulted in a brain injury. Immediately after, I developed multiple allergies, some life-threatening.

These sound overwhelming, even as I write them. But they are no longer part of me. I have been cured.

The very things that almost stole my life, are now the things that give me life.

This is why I am here: to write my story. Or rather - stories. (For they are multiple stories rolled into one.)

I want to share my stories with the world. Give others hope. Tell others to never, ever give up. Let them know that sometimes it takes years to heal. But I have seen it. I have lived it.

My dream is to inspire others. To let them know they can be healed, too.

I have been healed by the hand of God, felt the force of nature within me, been fed the bounty of the earth.

Nature is a powerhouse of life. I am in awe of what she can do. How one minute she is a mirror floating on the surface of the ocean, and next she is reaching out her long slender fingers, daring to tip me from the beach.

I found healing in a snow-laced mountain, trees bending beneath hurricane-force winds, blue-winged birds, sun on my back, wind on my face.

In bright carrots pulled from a garden, greens piled on my plate, and a juicy slab of meat, my body was fed. (Toss in my chocolate and tea, and I am whole.)

Nature is the reason I travel. The reason I love to move through the country, one path at a time, smell the humidity on a hot summer day, feel the frigid temps in the middle of winter. Experience and explore.

I can, because I am here. Because I have life.

My health experiences have both stifled me and motivated me, for they took away my previous work with preschoolers and gave me what, deep down, I had always desired - the ability to write. For that, I am thankful. Everything I have gone through has led to this moment. What more could I want?