Hiding from my truth
It's Wednesday, 15:40.
I'm still in bed, and I tell myself that is because my asthma isn't doing well with the high humidity.
That part is true, but I'm also in hiding. Hiding from my truth, from my own mind.
I haven't written on my main blog in over a week. I have written on this one, though, and that's a good thing.
I don't feel like blogging about creativity right now.
I need to let myself think back and feel.
My truth.
A year ago, on this day, I was in hospital, in so much pain that even the heaviest painkillers didn't hit a dent.
I was on the strongest IV antibiotics to fight the infection in my kidneys. I had to have my kidney drains replaced (which were placed the month before because my kidneys were failing) while I had high fever and wasn't really able to move a lot because I was so so sick, also still in recovery.
And now I feel like I'm there again, like I'm that helpless sack of bones who had to have a feeding tube placed because I just couldn't eat or drink. Nothing had a taste, nothing felt right going into my throat.
I thought I was going to die.
Yet, here I am, a year later, a survivor who is feeling as paralysed as I felt back then.
Maybe I need to give myself a kick in the pants to get moving. Or maybe I just need to let myself feel all the things I'm feeling right now.
It's odd. I feel like hiding but I also feel like reaching out.
To share that sometimes you don't live your pain in the moment. Sometimes it takes a year.
But, I'm writing. I'm letting my words out there. They are not the joyful words I'm known for. To get to my joy, though, to reach it again, I have to be this person now. The one in bed, smiling briefly because the sunshine she's been yearning for just broke through a cloud cover and beams into the room.
It's okay. I'm okay right now. I'm not in pain. I'm feeling well. I think my body and mind let me know that now it's the time to let myself feel what I couldn't process a year ago. And that's just perfectly fine.
So I will send this mail to my blog, and then I will go and watch something else, or maybe I will get up, head to my desk, grab a new block of wood, and carve out my feelings.
Whatever I choose, it's perfectly fine.