Last night, when I knew my body now needed to rest, I felt the over coming feeling of my all too familiar chest pains. The kind of pain that resulted in being in hospital, both last time, and the time before that. I felt my body become weak. I felt it freeze up. I felt it all, as I lay there unable to help it all, and I let it happen.
I looked back on the morning I had. I thought back to the first time I have seen the ocean in a month. I thought back to how I was able to sit in the sea breeze with one of my favorite people, and I thought about regretting it, I thought about wishing to take it back, especially now, with my body crumbling like this, in this moment. And I thought about it a little more, and decided I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t, nor couldn’t exchange the moments my chest got to breath fresh air for a moment without chest pain now. I wouldn’t exchange the many moments of laughter for the few seconds of tears now. I wouldn’t exchange the milestone of being able to go out with a friend (and not see my doctor) for the first time in a long time, even if it meant being set back now.
You see there is a fine line of what you can and can’t do when you are left somewhat unable to function. So you limit things, you limit how long you stand, you limit how long you talk, you limit who you see, and mostly you limit what you do, and where you go.
So on those good days, on those days where you feel as if you can stand a little longer, even if it means walking a little slower, you can talk a little louder, even if it means people are listening, you last a little longer, and for the shortest amount of time, you feel normal again. You feel okay again.
I can’t begin to explain to you what that feels like, to feel normal again after months, weeks, and endless days of feeling as if you are incapacitated. But just like Cinderella, the clock strikes twelve, the magic wears off, and you have taken one step forward and two steps back.
You end up back in the same bed, feeling as if you did three days ago, before you felt yourself slowly improving. You knock yourself back kid, it happens, but at least you got to laugh, at least you got to smile, at least you got to see the sunshine and breath the fresh air before those moments were taken from you.
Like I said, it’s a fine line between doing what you can, and doing too much. While I’ve always been a firm believe in ‘listening to your body’, granted, I’ve messed up multiples times and henceforth ending up here, sometimes even though your body screams ‘no’, you take that little piece of energy you have, and you walk out that door because every single inch of your heart, of your soul, of you sanity is screaming ‘yes’.
I definitely don’t have it all figured it, and honestly, nor do I expect to, but a few moments of sanity, go a long way for a lonely girl glued to her bed.
Until next time,
I’ve attached a little recording of a song I wrote a few years ago called ‘tired’ take a listen. Please don’t mind the dodgy quality.