It's so very hard to admit my worst fear. I've always been the ride or die, the calm in the storm, the cheerleader in the background, the rock. I overcame so many obstacles in my early life, then lived the bohemian dream and traveled the country with Jack Kerouac whispering in my ear and not a single thing to lose. I was always the endless optimistic, hopeful and honest and loving life like it's meant to be loved. I challenged the universe.
And then I went back home. Took care of the intellectually and developmentally challenged for many years. Gave my life and my soul to them. Ignored my first symptoms for them.
I've always given everything my all. I've written books of poetry that could make you weep. I've hurt so deeply in my soul that I didn't know if I could survive.
But I did. And I found love. And I made my life better.
And now, to have all of the activities, the hobbies, the dreams, stripped away. It's hard. I'm not diagnosed yet, but I will persevere. It sucks. But I will not stop. My brain struggles, my body struggles, my will falters, but my soul will not be stopped.
I am choosing to continue being me, more than I have ever been, because I have gained so much through my life. Even on the darkest days (today being one of them).
And I have faith in you. All of you. On your lowest of lows, on your rock bottom, on your very worst day. I believe in you. I love you. I think you are amazing. And the world is better for having you in it.