I was just texting my mom earlier today. We have limited contact and are trying to open up the lines of communication and amazingly this is working. She sent me a perfectly innocent comment, “Hope you are having a good day”. As I wrote back that I was feeling amazingly good lately, I realized that tears were filling my eyes. I am feeling better, way better than I have in YEARS, but with that sense of health and well being, comes the fear that it is fleeting. That the shoe may drop at any moment and it will all come crashing down around me.
I have lived for so long with chronic illness. My body defied my best dieting efforts with the hormonal changes I was experiencing and the physical changes that came along with the illness made me feel like I was living inside of a stranger. But recently, I am feeling more like myself feeling “balanced”. I am responding to my current medication in a positive way and it is bringing me healing. My body is responding with an ability to lose inches around my midsection and in my upper body. It has been so long since I have seen my waist I forgot what it was. I am finally feeling like I know me again. But in the middle of this feeling of happiness, I am scared. Scared to celebrate, scared to think it may last. I am remembering the advice I share with so many to take things one day at a time. Sometimes it is even one moment at a time, but this advice is easy to give, and not take.
It is almost as if I feel like I am not allowed to be better, to be well, after being sick for so long. It is really just about moving forward, taking things as they come. I don’t really like that, I do not like living without a script. I crave knowing what the next step is, the next thing to do, the next project that will show me the pieces to the puzzle I am missing. I want to fill in the puzzle, complete the picture. I hate being a work in progress.
Progress is good… I guess.