So, I lost a hard drive last week. No big deal, I thought. I had backed up the night before. No worries.
Except that the backup corrupted and I lost everything.
I mean everything. Every email from the last 15 years. Every WIP. Every photo. All the pictures of my wedding. All the files for all the books.
When I figured it out I threw up. Then I cried a little. Then I started to breathe again.
In my family, we’ve lost a house to a fire, to a tornado. When I left an abusive relationship, I had twenty four hours to figure out what to leave and what to take.
Does it hurt?
There’s a freedom in starting over again. What’s gone is gone and there’s no sense wishing for it. Moving on is one of my superpowers, which is damn handy, given I have to do it, every now and again.
Much love (and CHECK YOUR BACKUPS), y’all.