“Honor the space between no longer and not yet.” This saying, by Nancy Levin, has become one of my all-time favorite quotes as of recently. While I suppose that almost everyone, at any given time, could relate to this also, whether it be looking for new job or career advancement, mastering a new skill, or waiting for the love of their life, it resonates with me for a different reason. As you probably know by now, I was diagnosed with late stage Lyme disease on November 24, 2014. It’s a day that undoubtedly changed my life forever. On the one hand, I was incredibly relieved and grateful to have a reason for the deterioration of my body and mind. After years of torment and searching, I finally had an enemy to fight. On the other, I now know that I was naïvely optimistic about the path of treatment that lay ahead. Little did I know that I was jumping into a hell composed of extreme physical pain and disability, cognitive decline, and constant emotional breakdowns. What I’ve been through… I wouldn’t wish any of it on my worst enemy.
After more than a year and a half of treatment, I am on the road to recovery. Despite the vast progress I’ve made though, I still have a long way to go. And so, here I sit, in a place of limbo between no longer and not yet. I am no longer a master stylist, educator, or corporate trainer for Aveda™. I am no longer a teacher for Denver Public Schools. I am no longer deemed “successful” or a valuable member of the workforce. I am no longer a marathon runner or a Crossfitter. I am no longer allowed to eat freely without fear of repercussion. I am no longer free from the pharmaceutical companies, the handfuls of pills, and the countless side-effects. I can no longer read and write effortlessly. I can no longer sleep through the night.
I am no longer the person I once was.
On the flip side of that coin however, I have yet to start fully living again. While it’s true that I can now drive myself to the grocery store and take my sweet Charlie dog for a walk (for which I am incredibly grateful), I still feel the relentless nagging of a disease that just doesn’t give up. I have yet to be strong enough to make it through an entire day without suffering the repercussions of a body much older than that of my age. I have yet to have the consistent stamina to work even a part-time job. I still cannot run, or lift weights, or hike the amazing Colorado trails the taunt me from a distance. I have yet to fulfill my dream of traveling the world with my best friend and love of my life. I have yet to find a new career path… choosing to leave behind a career twelve years in the making to pursue… well, I’m not sure what… but it must fit my “Why” (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you should watch this Simon Sinek Ted Talk – it changed my life). I still have yet to own my own business, live fearlessly, and to freely and wildly pursue my dreams without physical or mental limitations.
I have yet to become the person I feel buried inside, frenziedly tugging at my soul to escape.
That leaves me here, the mud in which I currently sit. So while it is true that I am no longer who I once was, and not yet who I will be, I am painstakingly learning to honor the space in between those two. I am learning to find peace in the present moment (just like my mistake of tattoo says). In that space I have found that I can also no longer take this life for granted – that it doesn’t matter what is going on around me or if I feel that I have absolutely no control of my life. There is always joy to be found and a purpose to be had. Life has a way of leading us down paths which we are meant to go… and while I may not fully understand that path currently, I am trusting for an incredible outcome and grateful for the opportunity to follow it. With that, I’m also learning to be patient and accepting of the seemingly hundreds of curveballs thrown my way. Don’t get me wrong, I am not always gracious or kind in learning these lessons. Sometimes I go down kicking and screaming, clinging to my resentment of the loss and pain I have had to endure. But when I make it to the other side of those meltdowns and realize that I actually like the person I am becoming, I am grateful beyond words. Maybe that’s just what growth is supposed to feel like. Maybe growing pains are stronger in the metaphorical sense than they actually are in the physical. Maybe this rambling has gone on long enough and maybe I should be done talking now. I guess it would suffice to say that I am truly (not just saying that because I think it sounds positive or good for the blog), truly grateful for what I have gone through and all that it has taught me and will continue to. Peace out yo. Mic drop. (Sorry… I’m in a weird mood tonight).
“I’m not afraid of change. I’m more afraid of staying the same.” -unknown
Our thoughts are with you. You are a very brave, strong lady