Twelve pages of nothing anyone would publish, and the only reason I got through some of those weeks.

I am not a journaller by nature. I was writing because the waiting rooms were long and because I could not say certain sentences to my family without watching their faces change. Paper does not flinch.

Looking back at it now, most of the pages are lists. What hurt. What I was afraid of. Who called. What I would do if this went the good way. The lists are what helped, more than the paragraphs.

I pulled the prompts that did the most work into a short guide. It takes about ten minutes a day and it does not ask you to be positive about anything.