"Does she look suicidal to you? The little girl on the left didn't believe happiness was possible for anyone. She was wrong. I know — because I was her."

My name is Jan Hurwitz. I grew up in a house with 11 people. Not one of them was happy. Not one. And when that is your whole world — when that is all you have ever seen — you come to a logical conclusion: happiness isn't possible. Not for anyone. At 10 years old, I almost acted on that belief.

I was wrong. But it took me most of my life to find out how wrong.

Chapter 1 — The Dream

Before any of that, there was a little girl who wanted an Olympic Gold Medal. I spent the better part of 20 years in a swimming pool chasing that dream — 8 hours a day, 6 days a week. I competed at the Junior Olympics twice. I pushed my body and my mind to the absolute limit. I didn't get the gold. Not even close. But I learned something that would carry me through everything that came after: I was built for hard things.

Chapter 2 — The Entrepreneur

After college and swimming I went corporate. Seventeen years. I started as a secretary and worked my way up to entry level management — and then hit a ceiling. That's what they do. They let you up just far enough to see what you'll never reach.

So I did what I always do when a door closes. I found a different door. During this time I became President of the condominium complex where I lived — a large one — and ran it for 10 years. I also started purchasing rental properties. Corporate was no longer fulfilling and I wanted more. So I retired and started my first business.

People laughed. They took bets on how long we'd last. Nine years later, our Internet Service had 10,000 subscribers — and the phone company decided they wanted it and didn't want to pay for it. We fought. We lost. We started over. That was just Tuesday for Jan and Phil.

Chapter 3 — The Tornado

Talk about juggling. Everything hit at once. Phil was in a serious car accident. Then came the diagnosis — a rare, incurable heart disease. He would not survive. At the same time we were fighting a key supplier at the Pennsylvania Utility Commission and negotiating the sale of our largest business.

I found myself standing in what felt like the perfect storm of a tornado. The businesses. The bills. Phil's surgeries. His death. My health falling apart. I was standing next to my dying husband in a photo and I weighed 197 lbs. I couldn't deny what I saw — and I could no longer deny how I was feeling. That was the moment I made a decision.

My sister Sandy said it best: "like a deck of cards."

Chapter 4 — The Decision

Everything starts with a decision. Not a diet. Not a program. A decision. I decided to get my life back — all of it. My health. My finances. My joy. My self.

This is me at 61 in the jacket and blouse I wore on my wedding day. 78 lbs down. I am not done. I will never be done. That's not the point. The point is I decided — and everything changed.

Chapter 5 — The Decision Defines the Road

The decision to live did not end the depression. That took another 13 years and a nutritionist. Not a therapist or a pill.

The decision to heal my emotional wounds didn't heal them. The decision to reclaim my health didn't make me healthier. The decision to reclaim my life didn't get my life back.

What decisions do is light the road. And the road shows you the actions. Eating differently. Getting back in the gym. Finding the nutritionist, coach, tools. Learning to peel back the onion. Each action revealed by the road the decision lit.

Bandaids on symptoms don't heal wounds. Decisions do. The right decisions, on the right road, taking the right actions.

Chapter 6 — Today

Today I am 68. I have great grandchildren I sit on the floor with. I'm constantly doing things to challenge my belief systems. I've done ropes courses. I climb ladders. I go river rafting. I hike. I lift weights. I am training for a Women's Physique competition. I have restored my first house. I am not done. I will never be done.

I am also writing a book. Because the more I tell this story, the more I heal. And the more I heal, the more I can help other people do the same.

I am not Normal. I tried Normal. Normal almost killed me — twice.

I won't take you somewhere I haven't been. Feel the terror. Do it anyway.

Ready to redefine your Normal?

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