9 years ago I was thrilled to be running. I think I ran for about 5 minutes that day. I was fresh off Lyme treatment and still hoping I could heal up enough to play soccer or volleyball again.
Now I shall never run again.
Life doesn't turn out like you hope. It's full of griefs and loss and changing paths. I've been in and out of physical therapy since I was very young. So many tears on padded tables with stretch bands in my hands as I struggled through movements to the encouragement, "we have to do this or you'll end up in a wheelchair!"
I don't know who the joke is on, but it's not very funny.
Sometimes, I think about the thousands of dollars my parents spent on organic food, strict diets, herbal remedies, tonics, and tinctures and who knows what else. The giant concoctions of disgusting liquids and powders I'd pound in a red solo cup every morning. The times I was taking 40+ pills at a time - all-natural supplements every one, only to watch my health worsen.
We tried our best, but we didn't know. St. John's Wort and Turmeric have their limits and my body was well beyond them.
Today - my vertebrae crumbling within me, every joint held together with spite and pixie dust - I wonder if it was worth it. So much time, so much money, so much effort. For what?
It has to have been. I have to decide that it was worth it or the exhaustion will drive me truly insane.
And, truth is, I know how to take care of anything my body can throw at me now. I can mix and match natural and traditional medicine like a proper old-fashioned witch. I know how to move, how to exercise, and I can put my body through PT for every new injury I suffer.
I know how Sisyphus gets up every day.
He does not say to himself, "Maybe today we will reach the top and the stone will stay."
He says, "Today we will learn something new, and it will make tomorrow's task a little better."
vaporwave
germansingergirl
annaxmalina
areudirty
