Don’t let me down

I turn on my noise cancelling headphones and place them on my head. I absolutely love the moment that everything goes completely still. Before I start the music, there is dead silence. Bliss.

I open my music app and access my playlist. The music I choose is highly dependent upon my mood. Either replicating it or trying to change it. Today, I am frustrated.

I have the lights out, the curtains closed. I lay on my exercise mat and close my eyes. I am here to move and stretch my muscles, but the healing is much more needed in my psyche.

When I push play, the music completely surrounds me. I feel as if I am floating through an empty, black space and the sound of the instruments touch and heal every part of my being.

I cannot hear my slow intake of breath as my arms stretch out to my side and I squeeze my shoulder blades. Nor do I hear the release of air as I bring my arms together over my chest. I am supposed to keep count, but I just go where the music takes me.

Eventually, the lyrics begin and I can’t help but sing. But it’s more of a prayer than just words. Sometimes I am singing to doctors, sometimes to God. It’s honest and raw. It articulates what I cannot put into words.

Grief.

Anger.

Frustration.

Loneliness.

crashin, hit a wall

right now i need a miracle

hurry up, now i need a miracle

stranded, reaching out

i call your name but you’re not around

i need you right now

don’t let me down

i think i’m losing my mind now

it’s in my head, darling i hope

that you’ll be here

when i need you the most

so don’t let me down

runnin’ out of time

i really thought you were on my side

but now there’s nobody by my side

I repeat the song several times until I have worked through the pain. Well, temporarily. Just like the physical pain creeps back in (or, let’s be honest, sometimes it comes in screaming), the emotional pain comes back as well. It’s very frustrating!

I read and listen to a lot of information about mindfulness, alignment and manifesting your desires. That sounds a bit hokey, but I haven’t always been that way. It’s a newer way of thinking that I believe is benefiting me.

I’ve always been emotional and sensitive, but I thought it was a detriment. That there was something wrong with me. I’m trying not to think like that any more.

The last 10 years have been a journey that I am very grateful to be on. That doesn’t mean it’s been easy, but it’s been life changing. For that I will always be appreciative.

I have spent 10 years trying to learn how to live my life, be the captain of my life, take charge of my life. I certainly think it’s a process, and I will never be 100% content with where I am. As if I have finally hit a destination. But, I am learning to appreciate how much I have grown and be satisfied with how much of a better person I have become. If that makes sense?

The last 10 years has seen me stretch and I can now treasure all that I am, and also all that I will be. I am amazing!

I understand myself better with each new diagnosis. I joke that I have the entire alphabet hanging over my head. The reality is that each discovery brought with it a kind of sadness or frustration. Sadness that I have it in the first place and frustration that it took so long to find out. But now I am trying to find peace. Peace in the knowing and adapting. Accepting myself for who I am. The letters are not a hinderance anymore, but possibly an advantage.

Although there are people like me out there somewhere, there is no one who is exactly like me. A person who has my exact diagnoses and my exact age, background, and life experiences does not exist. I am unique! And although I have preached that exact thing to everyone and anyone who asks, I have had a hard time embracing it myself.

I think my health battles of the last few years have really exhausted me. It has annoyed me to no end that I am much too young to feel this dang old! But I’m starting to see that the exhaustion has removed the wall. I’m too tired to pretend like everything is ok. I’m too tired to pretend like I don’t mind. I’m too tired to pretend like everything is going to turn out just fine. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. But I’m not going to pretend like it isn’t scary. Because it is.

I haven’t written much in the last year because of a previous surgery and the pain that followed. Going to doctor after doctor, fighting to be heard, was debilitating. And now, after another surgery that didn’t bring the predicted relief, I find myself questioning everything. Everything. Every. Thing. Every damn thing!

It was at that point that I had to figure out where I wanted to go. Do I give up? Or do I have more to offer? I’ll be honest and say that I have gone back and forth on the answer to that question.

When I am in pain (and I mean, honest to God, I can’t do basic functions without excrutiating, sharp torture, and sometimes the basic function is just breathing) it’s hard to see that there is a purpose in my life.

I struggled for years to find my purpose. Eventually, I believe that I found it. My purpose is to encourage others to find their purpose and live their best life. That is it in a nutshell. My purpose is to help others. I could do it one-on-one, and I do. But my in-person reach is very short. I am not able to get out on a consistent basis and reach people. So, my best option is through this website. And I love it! I’m not great at writing or design. But I love it! And I love that it has reached people all over the world!!

If you read any of my stories on my website, you will see (and it is absolutely the truth) that I believe that everyone on this planet was born with a purpose and for a purpose. If I have breath, I have purpose. I do have breath. I am still breathing. I am in pain, but that should be irrelevant. I have breath, therefore I have purpose. At the core of my being, I believe that to be a fact.

But what to do when I don’t believe I am capable of serving my purpose? Is having breath enough of a purpose? That has been my struggle the last few months.

The last couple of years I have entered a very difficult time. What to do when my outlet becomes increasingly impossible? What to do when typing is sometimes out of the question?

That’s why I have worked so hard in physical therapy and at home to regain my voice. Good God, I can’t express how long it has taken to get this post written down and then edited! The time sitting in a chair with my computer has been short bursts, and I pay dearly for it.

Breathe in. Breathe out. I need a miracle.

Breathe in. Breathe out. I’m losing my mind.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t let me down.

I have breath so I have to keep pushing. Keep trying.

I have to believe that it will be worth it in the end.

*The song is, “Don’t Let Me Down,” by the Chainsmokers [featuring Daya]