Out of the Woods, Yet?

A friend recently asked “are you out of the woods yet?” I’ve bought prime real estate in the woods. These days, the woods are never really very far. I’ll meander through them, occasionally find a clearing where they cut off, but most often these days, I’m in the thick of the woods. My scientific breakthrough last week that being in my ‘spring break’ week of recovery did not in fact mean I would be feeling healthy, took a turn for the worse. The side pain is back with a vengeance (I call him Wally) and nausea and me are close pals. The problem is, I couldn’t—no, let me clarify—didn’t want to write to any of you about this because it’s honestly a little too painful to just deal with, so I’m able to accomplish very little when it’s going on. So it’s morning (Sunday morning, to be specific). And I have a small respite from the pain. So I’m writing.

How can I take you back through the crazy journey I’ve been going through over the past five days (try three months!!!) There are moments the pain is sharp enough to feel like a knife. I don’t say that to extract pity, but to try and be as honest as I can. This sucks. This really sucks sometimes, and I’ll be the first to come out and admit it. I’ve really missed having my old life this last week. I’ve missed having the freedom to walk around and plan my own day and travel to different places. I miss care-free laughter, or pure enjoyment. I miss being able to eat (almost) anything I want and not worry about how it’s going to hurt for the next three hours as it digests. I miss my hair. I know that’s selfish of me to say because I’m one of the lucky ones with hair, but I miss my full head of hair, nonetheless. Or feeling attractive. Or flirting. I miss that one a lot. I consider myself pretty good at it too, which makes it harder. I miss having people not cringe a little when they touch me for fear they’ll ‘break’ me. I miss not always watching the clock at night, counting down the hours till I can go to sleep. I miss beaches. And ocean.

And yes, today, I miss South America. Sure, there is a part of me that would have liked to be there right now, instead of here. I’m making the best out of what I got, but I do sometimes wish things had turned out differently, and I were still a little more innocent than I am now.

I understand that it never could have been. I don’t believe in ‘could have been’s.’ Thinly veiled lies we tell ourselves. This is what has happened. This is where I am. But I also believe in mourning. And sometimes that means holding yourself as you cry and let go of what your dreams once were, what they used to look like, and what you acknowledge they will not look like again.