I think anyone would forgive me for being pre-occupied with my health these past few months. A lot has gone on, and continues to go on, and just trying to stay on top of it all can feel like a full time job (as he stops and suddenly remember a medication he hasn’t taken this morning).
It would be no lie to say that at times it’s felt all a little too much, that I’ve felt swamped and overwhelmed by everything that has gone on, and a little disappointed in how slow the progress is (even though I’ve been told that I’m making a rather impressive speedy recovery). It wears you down over time and the things you love become luxuries rather than necessities. I’ve become a darker, less creative, more cynical person and as much as I understand why, I don’t like that and don’t want to stay like that.
Maybe because there is a part of me that’s incredibly stubborn, or maybe because there’s part of me that misses the things I love, but I’m starting to go through an internal process to reconnect and reignite my passion and drive, find my fun and amusement once again. I could probably sprinkle clichés like fine confetti, and maybe that’s part of the process.
Life is full of obstacles, both of your own making and the sort that fate likes to throw in your way. And at each obstacle, you have a choice. You either stop or you find a way over it. That might mean you try and fail a few times, or that you stop for a moment and gather your thoughts and focus, but ultimately, irrespective of your approach, it boils down to one of those two choices.
This experience has changed me in subtle ways I don’t really understand yet, and by that I don’t mean that my work will now have exploding legs as a regular motif (although that’s always a possibility). What I do know, all bravado aside, I will come out of this stronger because that is me, always has been me, and always will be.
Body of a couch potato, mind of an athlete.