Thursday, September 15, 2016
Healing is imminent. It's days away, hours away, moments away from sweeping through my bones and tying a neat little bow around my heart. It has been such a journey the past few months, and although I know, realistically, I've many more months to go, I can sense the mending taking place; the crafty little puzzle pieces being redirected back into their spaces.
I've been reading a bit here and there about the causes and triggers of various ailments, and in my case, digestive disorders and their respective flare-ups. Stress is an obvious one, alongside coping with deep unhappiness in the worst of ways by smiling, suppressing, pretending, and carrying on, until, of course, my body literally deteriorated. Getting sick was inevitable though, really, because there's actually been a multitude of factors involved over the course of the past few years, including, like I mentioned in my previous post, a ruthless case of clostridium difficile gastroenteritis and crippling depression and anxiety disorder.
I'm in a place now, however, where much of those things are in the past and faded, or fading, at least. I'm the least anxious I think I've ever been; I'm grounded, focused, and I'm happy, despite it all.
A few people have told me,
"But Meghan, you're handling it all so well. You look great, you're energetic - if I were you, I'd be miserable!"
And I can't help but agree, for the most part. I do indeed tend to gravitate toward one very powerful way of thinking: that everything we go through teaches us something, and that we are resilient. But don't get me wrong, I feel surges of discouragement and despair at times when I feel like I've been doing everything right and yet still experience setbacks. Stitching abdominal pain and explosive diarrhea is no small thing, but I almost thrive off the challenge of overcoming hardships, if that doesn't sound too bizarre.
I just tell myself to keep going and to seriously not give up. I can't give up, it's simply not an option for me. Healing is the only option.
So, I wake up, I drink my ginger tea; I stir my chicken soups and bone broths, I puree my vegetables and I avoid everything else I see. This is no easy feat for someone who just weeks ago could absolutely not resist a delicious chocolate treat or soft, fresh bread. Those things are absolute ghosts to me now, but I feel good, and I feel better.
I look up, though, or I stretch my arms; I lie under my soft sheets, I look at the moon, or I feel the rising sun, and I know somehow it's all in order. Life is fine and it's good, and our paths are always being taken care of. Somewhere, always, there is light, and it's always with us.