the voices from the past

"Recovery isn't about regaining who you once were...

but rather finding yourself as you are at present.

Let it be me. Let my life be me."

It's terrifying starting over sometimes. I mean like... really, truly, starting over. Finding this quote reminded me of the hope I have in beginning my journey again, defining myself again.

It's scary to think about going back home for Christmas break and seeing the people that knew me when I was so sick... or seeing people from High School that knew me when I was "healthy" then saw me go through a period of "unhealthy" and then be back at...almost-healthy-and-working-daily-at-it. Or seeing the people that knew me as "the ballerina"... then "the runner"... then "the biker"... or "the book nerd". Now, I am not defined by any one of these.

I don't know who I am exactly 

but I am finding out every day.

Just like I am in Kindergarten,

I am learning my favorite colors,

whether I like Jell-O,

what my favorite movie is...

what it feels like to go out to coffee with friends and laugh until your drink comes out your nose,

what it feels like to really focus my eyes on something,

what it feels like to just sit. yes,  just sit on the couch.

what it feels like to wake up in the morning and be, happy.

what it feels like to wear heels all day long and never have the urge to lace up my running shoes,

what it feels like to dream,

what it feels like to know whats inside you and remember it tomorrow,

what it feels like to miss someone,

what is feels...

exactly, I'm learning how to feel.

and so it's scary... facing the past, being reminded of the pain.

being reminded of the times I have forgotten,

being reminded of the unconscious days.

being reminded what it felt like to just, exist.

being reminded of the people who watched, confused.

and just didn't understand... couldn't possibly understand the pain.

Though there are two voices from the past, from the the joy, from the tears, from the pain, that walked through it alongside me... enjoyed years with me before sickness, and are now supporting me and watching me as I well... go off to Kindergarten again.

"Bye Mom! Bye Dad! Miss you today at school!"

Yep, mom and dad.

They are the two relentless voices, that don't remind me of the pain.

They don't remind me of "who I was" or "who I should be" or "that dancer I should have been" or "that doctor I was destined to be" or "that star student I was in high school".

They don't remind me of the judgmental stares, or the self-conscious anxieties.

They remind me of who I want to be.

They remind me of my life I have been given, by both them and my Savior.

They remind me of the person I am becoming, who I am pressing forward to be.

Not who I was, not who I was supposed to be,

but who I am right now.

That's exactly who I am supposed to be.

NYC momma, look out!

My mom visited this weekend.

It is so nice to be so transparent.

It's a sickness that is hard to talk about with "just anyone",

because they could never possibly understand,

never understand the years of pain I am growing out of...

but my parents were there, they went through it all with me.

Maybe not within me, within the pain,

but they were there when no one else could be.

Tonight, after my mom left, I attended a late yoga class.

While we were laying on our mats preparing for the opening Vinyasas,

the instructor said,

"Now begin to deepen your breath,

even if you don't need it at the moment, breathe for someone else.

Breathe for someone that needs your breath."

and it reminded me of my mom and dad,

They were breathing for me when I couldn't breathe for myself, 

literally and figuratively.

I could not be more grateful.

Even though I still need all of the "breath" that I can get right now,

and there are days when I still need to borrow some oxygen,

I had the desire to give mine away tonight 

because someone shared theirs with me,

and it saved my life.

Now, I have the chance to find myself.

Once my lungs become a little stronger

and my breath reaches deeper and deeper,

I'll breathe for someone else,

I will pass along the blessing.

Thank you for breathing for me

even when it hurt,

C