Warmth, the cold morning air in my apartment allows me to climb into my bed with my soft plush blankets and my cat as I type. February, I made the decision to lament. I read a book called The Loud Sound about grieving and allowing yourself to lament that I was inspired to take the month to allow myself to let my emotional and physical and mental and spiritual pain go. Somehow I allowed all the things that I have endured for 44 years to wrap itself around my neck like a python does before he starts eating his victims I don’t like not being able to breathe not only physical breathing but also metaphorical breathing. I felt drained. I felt raw. I felt targeted. I felt rejected. My disappointment in not being able to accomplish the plans that I have always dreamed of doing. I not only missed not being able live like a normal adult, but I also missed other key moments.
I miss being able to walk a block without having to stop several times in order to catch my breath. I miss walking long distances and now I have to use a wheelchair in order to get around. I miss feeling the ocean beneath my feet and the water on my skin. I miss being able to smell. I can’t smell with my trach tube in. It sucks. The only smells I smell are yucky ones. I cannot even smell all of my essential oils that I own. I can smell lavender and lemon. I’m thankful for that.
March is going to be the month I start again and consistent will be my goal.
Please wait...