My Ancestors waited for me. Danced for me. Laid in pain for me. Prayed for me. Asked for me. Dreamt me up. Gave birth to many before me just so I could arrive and heal what they couldn’t.
It’s not about a cure. But living long life in spite of. Some will simply never understand.
I have to keep reminding myself in this season:
Illness does not create abandonment.
It exposes who can stay when things are no longer convenient, light, or fantasy based.
Things I’m done being:
the strong one
the quiet one
the self-reliant one
the one who doesn’t ask for anything
the one who minimizes her needs
the one who absorbs stress
the one who carries her illness alone
Completely done.
You shine.
You’re warm.
You make people feel safe, even when you don’t feel safe yourself.
Those who aren’t built right get blinded by that kind of light.