Just after 9 pm today, I realized it was May 18th. May 18th eleven years ago doctors ripped apart my body and tore out what was left of my soul. Today. I'm alone. I finished a few things and I'm just sitting here. Listening to music. Crying. Again. I can't get out of my skin. I can't run. And I gave up hiding a long time ago. Theodore follows me around the house. For now, he's snuggled up next to my left leg. His breath is warm and I can feel him breathe.
In light of the pandemic, we're told we'll find a new normal. There is no new normal. It's not magic where you wake up one day and the past doesn't hurt anymore. It does. It is still part of you -- part of me. My past is the house that built me. It doesn't matter how many rocks I throw in the river or how many times I burn sage I can't escape the ghosts.
But time heals. This year, I didn't even realize it was May 18th until just after nine. Next year, will I even remember on May 18th? Or will it be the 19th? I know that I will never be the same. I will never be that amazing girl so full of life. It was "lifed" out of me. Besides, after all the surgeries, I'm not sure if I'm still a girl? If all your parts have been riddled with disease and removed, are you still a girl? I know I am not whole. But am I still a girl?
I was told I am like a tree bending in the wind. All of the things I have been through have made my tree strong, deeply rooted. That had I not gone through those things, in the first storm, I would break. But even big tall beautiful trees fall over.
Some days it is just a matter of walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Saying thank you. Thank you for these steps. Thank you for Theodore. Thank you for the sun, the moon. Thank you for the flowers. Thank you to the universe so that the universe will listen, reach out its hand to carry you. Today is one of those days.
Raise a glass to another year. In search of normal only to realize I've never been f-ing
normal!
