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When my sister came to visit me in Florida, I was exhilarated. I made so many plans for us. I was going to take her sightseeing and shopping, out to dinner and of course the beach. I was determined to show her a good time. We haven’t seen each other in such a long time, that the thought of being able to hang out with one of my favorite people in the world gave me so much happiness… and anxiety… and fear.

My list of things to do and see, was longer than the coast of Florida. Trust me, I am a pro when it comes to entertaining. The best restaurants and cool shopping centers, not to mention brunch at the beach and so on. But all that planning came with a cost. The cost of compromising the real reason why you want to spend time with people who you love. The connection. The being humans together. And of course the shopping, always good old shopping and coffee. I exhausted myself getting my list and reservations done. I even planned to take her to a hotel in Miami for the weekend. I was on a mission to show her that it was worth her coming to Florida to see me.

As soon as she recovered from her long trip, I was all ready like an event planner, just waiting to give orders on where and what we would be doing next. She seemed tired, but I was so focused on keeping her busy, that I missed that, and took her around town for the whole afternoon, to complete my endless list of things to do. Although we did have a good time, and it was lovely to reminisce about the past and recollect our great memories, she still seemed very tired.

At the end of the day, I took her to the best steak house in town. I was convinced that all she needed was a good and robust meal to give her some energy. After the waiter handed us the menus, I saw that she was having difficulty ordering, and I immediately jumped in, giving her suggestions on which dish to try. But she gave me this long and sad look and said ” did you forget I’m a vegetarian?”. I stared at her without an answer. The truth is, I did forget. And apparently I forgot way more than just her dietary options.

On the way back home, I had a full blown anxiety attack. Sweaty palms, racing heart and tunnel vision to the point, I had to stop the car. Being the good psychologist that my sister is, she told me to keep breathing slowly, and she held my hand, just like she did, when my parents were divorcing and I was little and terrified of my future. She was there. Always there to remind me to not fear “fear”. To embrace it and go through it. To remind me that I am worth any trip.

My list ended up in the garbage and we ended up together. Embracing our fears and holding hands. Nutella and ice cream were also part of our elaborate lazy afternoons by the pool, laying on the grass, laughing and remembering who we truly were. Sisters in fear and bravery.

Stay peaceful and face fear.

I spent my whole life planning my death. After my parents divorce when I was 8 years old, life just seemed like a series of unexpected events. Completely out of my control. I learned to expect the worse, to avoid disappointments. It turned into a game, that I played by myself, and counted more defeats than victories at times. I assumed that everything would go wrong, before it would go right. I was always prepared for the worse.

After a long week at a hospital, due to an unexpected, here we go again, surgery, I was glad to be back home with my husband and daughter. I still remember the feeling of relief that I have cheated tragedy one more time. I was still in control and didn’t realize at that moment, I was missing the most important lesson.

Five days after being home, I couldn’t breath well and was rushed back to the ER. I knew something serious was happening to my body, but it took another 9 hours of testing for the doctors to find out. Laying on that bed again, all I could think of was my 6 year old sleeping at home, oblivious to the fact that I was back to the hospital.

When the doctor walked in, he looked pale, as if someone has died. Well, I didn’t know that someone almost did die, and that someone was me. Staring only at my husband, as if avoiding eye contact with me, he asked my husband if we played the lottery, and added “she literally had a million more chances of winning the lottery, than being here today, you both should play tonight”. And proceeded to announce my dreaded Pulmonary Embolism diagnosis. I don’t remember being more scared in my life. It was one of those moments that your life flashes right before your eyes, and all you can think of, is that you ran out of time. Game lost.

Once I received treatment, I had a long journey ahead, understanding why I had to go through all of that. But most importantly, understand why I survived, and how to take in the lesson learned. None of us, are truly in control. It’s a hard and scary truth, but it’s reality. I did all the right things and still got sick. But I won. I won the lottery of life. My game days were over. I learned to live the day I am in. Whichever way it comes. When is bad, I deal with it. When is good, I celebrate. Is just that simple. Big victories now come from small accomplishments, and the small victories became just as important as the big ones. I found in writing, the most powerful outlet for spiritual and emotional healing.

I thought I had everything in life, until I almost lost it all. The truth is, I didn’t have what was most important.

I now have all I need. My family, my faith, my life. I won the prize, the real one, the prize of contentment.The prize of acceptance. I won the lottery.

Be well.