3:33pm
It’s me again. Surprise!
Trying to make little changes in my life, doubt this one will stick.
The other day I went to our “gym room” and rode the stationary bike. I had found some weird motivation to get things done after I put my new headphones on and started the music. Indie music. Don’t listen to that very often any more. This song “Acoustic” by Billy Raffoul came on. Good song, but sparked something weird that day. I repeated it a couple times and then decided to listen to more of his music.
As I was riding the bike, something in the sound, in his voice, in the song, caused me to explode into tears. I suddenly couldn’t stand what my life had/has become. My physical/internal life. The outside is great. But the inside still suffers the same way it has for years.
I thought about my story. You know, the one we’ll tell if we make it until we’re older. I thought about the time I went on stage in college to discuss the way I grew up biracial, which has nothing to do with this, but reminded me of the opportunity to tell my story.
I don’t want this to be my story. The sad 30-something who just lets her entire life fall apart because she has an incurable disease. One that can be managed enough. I don’t want someone to come up to me one day and say “hey, I have that same autoimmune disorder, how do you survive?” and my only response is that I quit fighting and let myself go. I let myself suffer in the pain every single day. I knew steps I could take and I chose not to. Choose not to. Every day.
How stupid would that be?
It would be nice to tell my comeback story some day. Everyone loves a good underdog, right? Even if you are the only one that reads it.
rose.
4:01pm
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