“Feelings buried alive never die” – I’m pretty sure that’s a Wayne Dyer book that has been sitting on my shelf since my awful teen years but has never actually been read.
Why am I still fighting?
This is a question that I asked myself a lot during my last rounds of treatment while the medicine was making me so ill every day, on top of fighting this horrendous disease, and the truth is, I didn’t always have an answer.
Do you ever think to yourself, what the fuck am I doing with my life and what do I even want?
My views on what is truly important in this life and what makes a person valuable have changed significantly since getting sick. I suppose this shouldn’t surprise me, as it is a message that one will often hear from someone who has gone through a near death experience, a life-altering accident, or terminal or chronic illness.
I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. No one told me when I got sick that I’d spend more time comforting the people around me than I would being comforted.
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I just had an amazing weekend away at Campbell Bay Music Festival on Mayne Island, BC. It was an incredible weekend spent listening to great music with the most beautiful people on breathtaking farms and in magical forests. Seriously I walked into the field and couldn’t help but think, “these are my people.”. We walked around in bare feet and sat on blankets in both the light of the sun and the moon; we swam in ponds and walked through the woods and sat in the forest. It was everything I love and more (minus the makeshift outhouses!).
Dear Doctor’s, there’s something you need to understand…
I believed you every single time you misdiagnosed me.
So today I did a thing – to my face – against all my friend’s and family’s advice (besides 2) – and it made me think about self-care.
You’re talking to the girl who wouldn’t take yoga class because she’d burst out laughing during savasana – the meditative, still, yoga posture that always ends a session – out of the pure discomfort of being still.