My health has been one of the biggest challenges of my life. My 23 years (well, the last 10 of them), have been spent stuck between chronic illness and paralyzing emotional pain, feeling truly disconnected and unable to make sense with what was going on with my body.
I’ve been angry at a family who were unsupportive. I’ve been angry at the doctors who didn’t believe in me. I’ve been angry at insurance companies for failing to cover costs. I’ve been angry at a paradigm that puts specialized medicine and pharmaceutical reps at the forefront of their practices. I’ve been angry at the food system and the government for not doing more to protect my health.
So much emotion. So much energy. So much I just couldn’t make sense of.
But it’s ok. No really, it is. Some days it’s not. But most of the time it is. I’m beginning to find the purpose, a passion. The years I’ve spent in waiting rooms haven’t been all for nothing. They’ve brought me to this point in my life, diploma in hand, ready create meaning behind the pain.
I feel like I’m on the precipice of something more… something good and worthwhile. What I wanted to say was that I’m ok now. That I’m ready to talk about things. I’m ready to make all this shit count for something.