When my feet wouldn’t move that morning, I sort of lost grip with reality – well, not entirely. But for a few minutes I lost it… and then the increasing desperate urge to pee whipped my ass right back to the present moment.
That morning my life changed dramatically. I won’t lie. I won’t say that chronic illness has made me stronger, wiser, or more compassionate. I won’t say that I’m happy for the changes forced upon my life. I won’t sugar-coat this damned new normal with such things. I just won’t.
I’m strong, but I was always strong – fiercely independent because I had to be. I’m happy because I choose to be. Not become some stupid chronic illness has made me do some amazing soul searching that led me to see that my prior life was dull and pointless.
It’s been one of the more cruel jokes the universe has played on me. Except that it’s not a joke. It’s very real. No matter how much I attempt to forget I’m afflicted, no matter how many times I stop what I’m doing to close my eyes and try to “reset” myself… it’s still here.
Now, two years later, it’s time to learn (or re-learn) some of life’s more precious lessons…pft. Who the hell knows what those lessons are? Not me. But I bet if I sit in front of this keyboard in the calm, lonely solitude that has become my life, I will be able to figure out what at least one or three of them are.
This ought to be an adventure….