Forks in the road

The bad news is that my insides still hurt. As much as I try to be engaged and present in this world, I find it difficult. Right now, I have a life, but I am not truly living.

“The body that turns in upon itself is split from the self that looks forward to this body’s restitution. The temporarily broken-down body becomes ‘it’ to be cured. Thus the self is dissociated from the body.” Arthur Frankl

The shift from being stuck to being present is something that one has to practice regularly. That makes all the difference between just having a life and truly living.

I admit, I have not practiced what I know to be true. There are some things that have been so ingrained in me...like I will hold the door open for an old lady, even if she's not struggling. It doesn't take a second thought, even if I'm rushing.

I want my story between the dash to be that I lived abundantly, loved what I did in life and raised a beautiful family.

First, I have to get through the cysts and the fibroids, the pain and the mental strain. I want to do, but I realize the more I do, the more I hurt, which is probably why I didn't get better the first go-round.

The silver lining: This has made me adjust my road map some. I'm thinking more about saving my money. I'm thinking more about what it is that will really make me happy (not just what I'm "good" at). I went to WSU to get better at what I was good at in high school. It is mostly a fulfilling career choice. I want to get better at other things too, which is why I'm considering taking some more classes, in psychology, while I work.

I have more analysis of self and situations to do before I decide which route to take this time. In the meantime, I'm focusing on living. I'm focusing on addressing the health issues that have kept me hurting, and preparing myself for all of the possibilities associated with my reproductive system. I'm focusing on putting out quality articles at my internship. I'm focusing on rebuilding friendships, loves, all of the above.

Yeah, I'm just doin' me.

What's between the dash...

What is between the dash?

On a tombstone, birth is on one side of the dash. Death is on the other. What is in between birth and death is the dash, the life one has lived on earth. Life and death is separated by living. Some never make it beyond mother's womb, living and dying in what could be considered a sacred, warm, comforting place. Others live moments. Many more live years. A lucky few will see a century come and go. I don't know the day or hour I was conceived, but I was delivered into the outside world on August 3, 1986. I emerged with a battle cry in my lungs, maybe knowing the living that would follow might not be as comfortable and nourishing as the 40 weeks I'd enjoyed in the womb.

I went through the physical act of rebirth, determined to follow Christ, on August 6, 1996. I had a basic idea of what I had done. That decision, if I embraced it and nurtured it, would continue to be my hedge of protection. It has. My dash includes Christ.

I have been an honor student most of my life. School wasn't as hard for me as it was for some. I've had a generally outgoing, adventurous personality. I love people and love striking up conversation. As I've grown, I've also learned to embrace quiet moments. My dash includes peace.

Turbulence entered my adult life. I've never been cracked out, sexed up, pimped out. No. Not ever. But I've learned about failures. Some failures, forcing like to mesh with unlike created a mess. My dash includes chaos.

Growing means shedding one skin to develop another. That process is at times painful. But there is also joy in no longer being naive. There is happiness in wisdom. And part of growing means no longer dwelling in the chaos and moving beyond those places that draw life out of you. The chaos and stress only bring one closer to the end. But I'm learning that I'd rather live joyfully on earth for a short period of time than miserably for an eternity. My dash has seen a few different skins.

I was upset for a short while this past week because of a hospital stay. It's hard when someone says 'you need to stay here so we can treat you even though we're not sure exactly what we're treating.' Pain brought me here. Pain kept me here. I've had some fun learning and practicing Spanish during my Miami hospital stay. And I've heard repeatedly that God has his reasons for everything. This illness, not seeming life-threatening or chronic, took me away from what I intended to do in this city. I intended to dive deep into the world of data analysis and investigative reporting. I intended to take advantage of the people who'd been reporting by aid of computer for years. Time allowed me to skim the surface and tap into some minds to learn before I began hurting. I've been out since mid-morning Friday. There were a close few that I alerted to my hospitalization, mostly because I don't believe in worrying folks. Others found out by chance because they actually cared to call or text and say hey. I finally got the all-clear to leave the hospital.

So begins another adventure in the dash...