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By Courtney Thomas

“And if life gives me lemons, I'll just mix them in my drink."

I made deviled eggs tonight for the first time in at least two years or more. They were always a staple at family gatherings and any type of carry-in dinner. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, anything. They are cheap, fast, easy and good. Everyone loves them. But I always hated deviled eggs.

Deviled eggs represent a stable, happier, sane me. Someone who was whole, who knew where her life was going, someone who had plans for herself and her children.

Now I'm wondering. I'm going through day to day, just waiting for the next shoe to drop. I can't enjoy one minute because my anxiety is already preparing for the next. I'm one step ahead of myself, preparing for whatever pain or problem should come next. How do I enjoy life anyway, knowing all the pain I've caused, all that I've endured?

This life deals us all heartaches, and I think we are equipped to handle them differently. I internalize. I write. I hold grudges and blame myself for everyone's own mistakes. Of course, the guilt doubles.

So tonight, I forgave myself a bit. And I made the eggs everyone has always loved. I will watch my loved ones enjoy the eggs and wish that those I hold dear who have passed could be part of this moment, too. I will take that bittersweet memory and hold it in my heart. And I will thank God for every second he has given me with my parents (both sets) and my heroes. I thank God everyday.

And I am going to be understanding and love myself.

I’m going to make the eggs.

— Courtney Thomas

Courtney Thomas is the mother to three boys and an army of animals. She writes to deal with grief and trauma —and in the hopes of letting others know they aren't alone.