Raw, Untold and Alive.

I've opened this window at least 100 times since the start of this year. Why shouldn't I? In 2011 I selfishly talked of the times of wonder, bliss, and pure content. Conversely, 2012 hasn't turned out quite the same, and humbly, I have learned that as painful as honesty might be from day to day, at the end of the day, it's what really matters, and what, in turn, is happening.

We'll start from the beginning.

I broke off my engagement to be married in late January. I know, at this point, there is shock and awe on some of your faces. Horror on others. And just plain anger in some of your eyes. I'm not telling everyone this to take pity on me. And quite frankly, my past life of living in the spotlight has been one of exhaust. I'm just trying to be honest, and luckily, this column is about my life experiences, and what I feel.

If everyone likes what you're doing, you're doing it wrong. ~Unknown.

Sparing all the painful details, I had some incredible friends that picked me up when I needed it, called often to even hear my silence, offered their home to me for as long as I needed, and continually gathered on weekends when everyone's exhausting work weeks were done, to make sure I was comfortable and surrounded by love. To them, and you know who you all are, I am forever indebted to you. I love you.

You have not lived today until you have done something for someonewho can never repay you. ~John Bunyon

So in true Amanda Barry fashion, I ran, most definitely in the literal and biblical sense. My friends and I had been running for the past year, continually picking up distance as the races we signed up for progressed. The end goal was the Disney Princess Half Marathon, in Orlando, Florida in late February. I begrudgingly signed up, despite the mental roller coaster that had become my life, and put my emotions into the pavement. As the race neared, I made plans to drive to Florida with my mother, who also was entered to race, and finalized as many plans along the way as possible. We were going to be able to see my maternal grandpa and stay with him, explore Orlando with my friends, head South to visit my most missed, and dear family on my father's side, and there was still room for some random acts of spontaneity- most definitely my favorite pastime.

Myself, Aunt Colleen & Mom- Post Half Marathon

The open road surrounding us, my brave mother and myself made our way to Daytona, Florida in 16 hours. She probably still winces at the thought of a day-trip to Florida, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I wanted, and needed, so badly to drive and put as much distance between me and my reality as I could fathom. I didn't know how otherwise.

We laughed and talked, cried and argued, all of the natural details of such a loving friendship. My mother, whom I have been known to mirror in several ways in life, had once again surfaced as my rock- everything I needed and could ask for, and she gave so selflessly in my time of need.

Once in Florida, my mind washed away with the heat and tide. I did, indeed, have the best trip of my life, as cliche as it sounds. There, of course, was plenty more I had wished to see, cousins whom I don't get to see enough too far away and a definite feel of "home" in my 93 (this week) year old grandmother's condo on the golf course. The pool, the air, the old friends, the Barry family dinner with too much wine, the meeting of my grandfather's new girlfriend who bittersweetly doesn't replace the woman most dear to my heart, but brings a 16-year-old boyish grin to his face again, the food, the beach and the ocean- the healing process it had started can't even be put into words.

The girls & I posing for a shot with the glass slipper.

Grandma Barry, 93, posing with my finishing medal.

And then, there was the skydiving.

My grandfather, the one I claim as my hero, has had a hard last calendar year. Some days when I think my struggles are a worthy cause I remember, life can be so much more intense. This gentle giant. This tall, handsome, strong man has woken up to a new outlook on life. One I share, to my mother's dismay, and to be fair, one at my age, can be slightly risky...

You only live once, and tomorrow is not promised.

As one can foreshadow, in my mission to put 'driving from Michigan to Florida' in the day-trip category, we got up early, drove until we were tired and weary, and arrived late into the night. Upon entering my grandfather's home, there was a notable piece of scrap paper on the counter laced with his chicken scratch, "SKYDIVE 738-3539." Now I was wide awake.

My mom was gathering her things from the car, and using the restroom, so I had little time to react, turning it more into an interrogation than an actual conversation.
"You're going skydiving?"
"No."
"What's this about?"
"I don't know."
"Grandpa, so help me God, if I am in Florida for 10 days and you go without me, I will not be happy."
"I don't know what's going on. I don't want your mom to know. We'll talk about this later."
We smile. I hug him, so happy to see him, and we go to bed.

On my last night in Southern Florida, soaking up every second of my aunts, uncles, cousins and my beloved grandma, I got a call from Grandpa back in Daytona.
"You sure you really want to do this?"
"Skydiving? Yes."
"Good. I made an appointment for Friday at 10am. I'll see you when you get back here."
My heart sang. My grandfather, this mysterious new adventurer, arranged for us to skydive. Life was complete.

Not once did I cry, worry or freak about the thought. I was so happy. I did try to persuade my mother into jumping, using the "Three generations out of the same plan would be the coolest thing mom!" She didn't want any part of it. She joked that if something happened to us, she would need to be on the earth to field all of the calls and take the blow forces of my questioning aunts.

So we jumped. And it was, undoubtedly, the coolest thing to date. My instructor and I averaged 145mph from 14,000 up. It went by rather peacefully, yet we were back on the ground within minutes. We all celebrated with some spirits and lunch, and watched the DVD documentaries of our short journeys through the atmosphere. Top 5 days of my life. Hands down.

Grandpa, Fran & I- Post Jump

So back to reality we went that weekend. Home to cold, snowy Michigan in our flip flops. The paradise was put on hold for now... Until next time.

At the middle of March my grandpa offered me quite the proposition. I could live in his Michigan home, where I could have my own space, and my puppy, tend and take care of it, because he didn't want to live in Michigan any longer. It was like a call from heaven. The situation was perfect, it was everything I needed to get back on my own two feet, and he didn't have to worry about rushing home this spring to open it back up, clean and decide what to do with it. He's lonely in Michigan, and for a man who has recently been blessed with love again, the last thing on his mind was moving thousands of miles away from his dear new lady.

I can't say it's been easy. Ladies, all of the simple, mundane tasks of garbage and lawn care, fixing things and technology glitches that your boyfriend, fiance or husband complete- these are something to be praised, take it from one who used to disregard them. I have a home that needs cleaning, food that needs cooking, and an anxiety-ridden dog that needs special love and attention. It's long days and sometimes forfeiting social nights, but it's so worth it. I've finally rested my eyes, and my mind, relaxing into my reality. I speak openly, honestly and with special care now about what I want and need from people. I'm mending my broken heart, and filling the lonely empty nights with novels, writing and my new-found love for Jesus and the Bible.

I was raised Catholic, and much to my ignorance, being brought up in a religion does not mean you're a practicing woman of faith. I have recently, with the help of dear friends, opened my eyes to the circle of believers. I have accepted some tales to be truth, and aim to hold myself in a higher regard. Does it mean I'm going to make a 180 on my lifestyle and incessantly preach to family and strangers alike? No. It just does something for me that I need. A lifeline to hold onto when the days are hard and the nights are quiet. It gives me hope. And my most recent favorite book, The Shack, has left me with a resounding quote that I think of nearly a dozen times a day.

Love one another.

The sound of it makes this whole "life" thing seems simple. I know it's not, and I know Narnia, to quote a great friend, doesn't exist in the sense of a perfect life. But, I do know, that with a strong support system, some pretty incredible friends and a positive outlook, I might, just might, be able to find my stubborn, wildly-excited, optimistic, always-laughing, loving self again.

And I am sure, 2012, despite the speed bumps, might just turn into my most memorable year yet.