“Your eyes are lacking that sparkle and cheer they had when I first met you.” -january 21st
“You know, this is a fatal illness. And you’re walking down a very narrow pathway.” – january 23rd
I’ve always found comfort in the extremes. I’ve always like the idea of this peaceful mindset, happy and healthy life. The idea of going ice skating with my friends and walking around the mall and celebrating holidays freely. The idea of waking up in the morning with a smile and the sun shining through my window. Yet at the same time, there was something exhilarating about those two statement one of my doctors had said to me. This messed up idea of comfort. Being sick takes away the uncertainty. The fear. The real world fades away and suddenly you don’t have to worry about a single thing. So full of emptiness. Something about being so sick just felt so right, like I was finally doing something right.
WHY ON EARTH HOW DO YOU FIND THIS COMFORT IN SUCH A SCARY SITUATION YOU CRAZY
Well, let me tell you: If you’ve never craved the feeling of complete and utter emptiness, you won’t ever fully understand why someone would pursue this mission to become empty. It’s a feeling of accomplishment when nothing else is going right.
However, it comes to an end. And for me, January 25th marked the end of (hardly) surviving in this black and white world and beginning to travel to the gray area. The area filled with uncertainty, fear, doubt.
Today is March 10th. It’s been 6 1/2 weeks. Every day is filled with constant decisions to stay on the right path. To be completely honest, it gets tiring waking up each morning knowing the hesitancy can creep back at any time.
However, each day I wake up stronger. Each day I fight that ambivalence, no matter how strong the desire the crawl back into the previous comfort that I had beforehand. Each morning I wake up, I acknowledge that uncertainty, that desire to go back to the ways things used to be. And slap it in the face.
Today marks one week of being back at home. 7 days. 10080 minutes spent choosing to continue. And it’s been anything but easy. But I can already tell that the hard work I’ve put in these past 6 1/2 weeks are already paying off and cannot wait to see my life continue to unfold as I persist and fight. Today, I choose to keep going.
And that is not something I could have said back on january 23rd.
It’s kind of funny, looking back to two years ago, knowing that I wrote about all 365 days I had spent being free from the hospitals-yet here I am, after breaking that streak, returning to a simple 7 days. But you know what? That’s okay. Because this is only the beginning.
From here on out, I will flourish. I will thrive. I will grow and gain more and more hope as each day passes by, no matter what challenges may come my way.
I will continue.