It’s been almost a year since I received the diagnosis of ME/CFS; two years since the visits to the emergency room escalated and I knew something was very wrong; four years since I suspected my system wasn’t working right. Step by step along the way I have died in little pieces: watching my dreams (some shared, some personal) slip away.
While waiting for the results of Thor’s biopsy we made out a bucket list: places we wanted to travel, activities to pursue, risks to take – all requiring energy – all beyond my capabilities right now.
I am told that people recover from this disease – thirty percent completely – and others learn to adapt to the eventual return of some functioning – and so I keep hoping.
I am not one to believe that life is a haphazard set of events and then we die. I believe that there is purpose and opportunity around every corner and that the trials we are given are invitations to delve deeper into the mysteries of the universe and the wonders within.
With this mindset, I await the first dawning of new light: the birth of something new.
Every day I am letting go and surrendering -accepting – this process with an open heart and mind, anxious for the labour pains to begin.
Life remains pregnant with possibilities.