Some of my lowest points from the past few years are softened by their links to some great memories with my children.
Of course, if you asked, I would have told you I was a "realist". That's the term that someone uses to dance around the fact that they're really a self-hating pessimist.
Worrying never did anything for me. All it did was make the moments before uncertainty worse by filling me with impending dread.
I forced myself to ride the exercise bike for at least 30 minutes and did a series of weights afterwards. With each rep, I seethed with anger.
All the "Just For Men" hair dye commercials and black birthday balloons with tombstones on them can't shake me.
I'm not writing this to simply tell the story of seeing the world through Olivia's eyes, but also about accidentally making her see the world through mine.
For a good five hours on December 13, 2012, I was convinced I was going to die.