September 13, 2019

I am sad. I am scared. I am stressed. Yes, I’m deeply grateful for my life, for access to quality medical care, for a safe settled place to begin to heal; yes, I count my blessings to have a caring community, a loving family, a present mother by my side; yes, I am trying in my heart of hearts to be brave, positive and strong; yes, I know that I will one day feel like my old self again, be able to show up in service, maybe even dance in the dust — and all of your beautiful words, messages and prayers are lifting my spirits more than you will ever know 🙏🏾 — but right now, I’m overwhelmed by the pain, the unknown, the long journey ahead and maze of doctor, tests and bills I must somehow learn to navigate. I tell myself these waves of emotions are all okay, welcome even, but facing the humbling realities that my body, my speech, my capacity are broken is far from an easy task, especially with no end in sight. I see the light at the tops of the trees from the bed in which my mangled self lies next to mashed avocado, bandages and both prescription and homeopathic pill bottles. When forced to pause, I see that I am but human — and this trauma hasn’t just affected the physical, also my mind, my soul, my being. I’m still me. I still love you. I still believe. I’m just hurting…