The Days That Followed
With every step I broke another layer of night, bringing with me the pink and purple hues of the day to come.
That familiar feeling began to once again bubble up inside of me. Just as familiar as it was terrifying, so I did the only thing I knew how to do: push my feelings aside, clear my head, and find a way to distract myself from the reality of my jumbled brain. This distraction took the form of a twig, as I was immediately captivated by the snow covered twists of near perfection, wondering how in the world something so complex could make life seem so simple.
A crunch followed by silence repeated itself over and over again as I made my way to the fence, eyeing a small creature as it swiftly moved across the meadow. My camera was away at that point, with the crazy idea that my jacket pockets could warm my now frozen fingers, so all I could do was watch as the silhouetted fox silently make it's way to the wooded grove.
With glimpses of the sun rising in the east, I could feel the warmth reaching towards the mountains, almost as if they had missed each other during the cold of the night; it was beautiful, but I couldn't help but feel disconnected from it all.
I knelt over myself, clutching my stomach as I breathed deep, hoping that with each release the nausea would subside. It did not. I knew the rays of sun had reach my back as I watched my shadow lengthen across the field, I wanted to look up, but my mind, my screaming mind, wouldn't let me budge. Pain surged as the nausea worsened; I am not one to get sick. Not sick sick that is, because the truth is, I'm always in some kind of pain, but it's always a pain that I can hide.
This one I could not.
A few goofy faces and determined mountain gazing moments later, I found myself trudging back to the car, defeat weighing heavy on my shoulders.
I mean, it couldn't all be me, right? Some of it has to do with the recent medicine intake after months of not taking anything.
The movement of the car put me into a deep trance and we made our way back from the neighboring town, driving slowly, careful not to slip on any ice.
That day was a blur; I found myself in and out of panicked moments, uncontrollable tears, and nervously spoken words. Still, I decided it best to push it all aside, still not convinced that any of this had to do with me.
Another day went by, my condition worsened, and my sadness seemed to morph into a depressive state;
I couldn't speak without tears pouring down my face, the idea of holding any sort of normal interaction with someone felt completely out of the question, let alone being asked if I wanted a cup of tea.
The solution: Binge watch Outlanders for about ten straight hours, beating myself up every time I clicked 'next episode' instead of trying to get out of bed. So, with my eyes glazed to the screen, I started going over all the things that I should be doing rather that being OK with where I was in that very moment.
Once again I found myself watching the sun rise, but this time it was from the safety of my bed. A place where I thought I could hide from the realities of my mind.
I was wrong.
Sure, it could be entirely the fault of my medicine, which is very likely considering the amount of toxins being released in my body at any given moment, but it could also be me, my outlook, and my hopefullness that this could all go away with having to lift a finger.
Deep down I knew that something had to be done. I knew that I needed to dig a deeper...
With my history of anxiety, the recent discovery that Lyme is not the only thing messing with my immune system, and this new bout of antibiotics, the culprit could be any number of things, including the pressure that I put on myself to achieve nothing but "greatness" every single hour of every single day.
An unrealistic amount of greatness. One that I wouldn't ever dream of putting on anyone else, so then why do I then go ahead and put it on myself?
With another day passed, and a few less tears shed, I am reminded that these uncertainties could also be seen as opportunities. Opportunities for change, for a mind shift, for a creative spark.
The more hardships we overcome, the more obstacles we face, and the more unknowns we push through:
The more wild, adventurous, and creatively inspired our bodies and minds will be.
(Plus, think of all the stories you'll have to tell?!)
On to the next adventure...
Keep on keepin' on #morethanlyme