** warning: very personal post.. but here goes it**
Just recently I noticed that its been a little over a year since i’ve blogged at all. It wasn’t until I put two and two together that I realized I stopped blogging right around the time I started to noticeably feel sick. I’m not sure why that is, but my mom would probably say its because I internalize a lot. From the very beginning i’ve preferred to be very private about what I’ve been going through, but it’s pretty obvious at this point that i’m not okay. I’ve been sick for a while.. but you can only hide a bald head for so long, lol.
Days like today – no matter the amount of support I have behind me – i’m not okay. I think that i’ve been pretty positive throughout this process, as well as very open about the love that I’ve received because I’ve felt that the people in my life deserve that acknowledgement, because I’m just so so thankful. On the same note though, I think it’s only healthy to acknowledge everything that goes on behind the scenes. There’s nothing about what I deal with on a daily basis that’s okay. And sometimes when you’re told over and over that -“it’s okay”, “you’re going to be okay”, “it’s all going to be okay”- all you want to do is scream back that nothing about this is okay.
It’s not okay. It’s feeling like your not in control of your own body. It’s being afraid to go to sleep at night because you don’t know what kind of morning you’re going to wake up to. It’s constantly fighting with your own body to stop attacking itself. It’s having to leave the job of your dreams because you’re just “too sick”. It’s seeing tears roll down the face of those closest to you. It’s keeping a daily log of every food or medication I put into my body. It’s hesitating before you go anywhere or do anything because you’re terrified of when your body will decide to shut down. It’s throwing up multiple times a week, with nothing even coming up most of the time. It’s being covered head to toe in bruises. It’s asking God “why”. It’s looking in the mirror and not even recognizing yourself anymore. It’s having to have someone with you almost wherever you go. It’s getting 8+ hours of sleep, then feeling so fatigued you can’t stand before 2pm. It’s the stares. It’s medication after medication, and then more medications for the side effects of those medications. It’s getting your blood taken so much you know where just about every good vein in your arms are. It’s a “you okay? how are you feeling?” instead of “hello?” when someone picks up the phone. It’s not being able to hold down even your favorite meals. It’s trading in your flat irons for hats, hats, and more hats. It’s aching in places you never thought you could ache. It’s going from being a gymnast- to walking up a flight of stairs and having your head spin and heart beat out of your chest. It’s having to sleep with a thermometer and pulse-ox by your side every night. It’s not sleeping. It’s fearing for your future. It’s saying “I’m sorry I can’t”, more times than you can count. It’s being unable to go out with your friends, whether that be to a bar or just to lunch. It’s looking up how close a hospital is to you if you go anywhere out of town just in case. It’s trying to make sense of something that will never make sense. It’s praying, and praying, and praying.
But it’s also okay. It’s the rare but monumental good days. It’s the random phone calls, texts, and face-times. It’s the heartfelt and sentimental gifts. It’s the bald-head massages. It’s finding humor in what you lack. It’s saving money on hair products. It’s the long warm hugs. It’s connecting more with God than ever before. It’s the deep and meaningful conversations. It’s a new perspective on the world. It’s having 20 boys you don’t even know sing to you and bring you flowers and gifts, just to make you feel beautiful for a moment. It’s getting to meet amazing and inspirational doctors and nurses. It’s messages from complete strangers with genuinely big hearts. It’s being able to spend more time with your family. It’s learning more and more about the medical field (hopefully that gives me a leg up when I become a nurse). It’s the feeling of writing thank you letters. It’s being more than grateful for a healthy day. It’s being pleasantly surprised to see who’s really there. It’s seeing who didn’t end up being there after all, and knowing that it’s their loss. It’s thanking God for your past. It’s being loved unconditionally.
While I still like to be pretty private about things in my life for numerous reasons, I now know that fearing I wouldn’t get the support that I needed was never something I had to worry about. The amount of support that I’ve received from friends, family, and even strangers is enough to make my head spin. Those screenshots I posted above are only a glimpse into the kind words I’ve had sent to me. To everyone that’s contributed to making me feel better in any way, THANK YOU. I’m reminded every day that what I’m going through could always be immensely worse, to stay positive, to trust God, and to be strong. Although that positivity can be hard to follow sometimes, most of the time it comes easily thanks to the people in my life. More than anything, it’s okay that my normal isn’t like everyone else’s normal. All I can say is that despite it all, I’m still very truly blessed.