Lately I have been daydreaming about a perfect life;
I have spent nights listening to music for hours on end and smiling at the memory of former wishes,
And I can’t help thinking, as I attend a club presentation about grad school and take classes and talk to my friends about careers,
How happy I am to be here;
See I spent months avoiding thinking about the future,
Cause it was far too painful to envision what my life could have been
And what it could not be so
I focused on the present moment, away from the metaphorical mountains that I once wanted to climb —
But now I have convinced myself that my suffering has made me who I am,
Has allowed me to have this dream of a beautiful life, and
I can finally see the top of these mountain peaks;
They gleam white with snow, the sun shines bright,
And I think,
How wonderful it is to dream of concerts and travel and cafes and cobblestone streets and campfire songs and kisses in the dark;
But it is hard to see the pathway to my dreams;
They are beautiful but also distant like a mirage and I spend much of my time dreaming but much of my time
Pouring over medical notes and watching medical dramas and reading all about my health conditions,
Cause it’s wonderful to dream and say, “I’ve come so far. I can be patient. It will get better,” and believe it,
Until I am confronted once again with muscles that feel weak and shake and ache,
With the fear of what could happen if I push through it again,
And I am reminded of the days spent in bed unable to stand or walk,
Of typing because it hurt too much to talk,
Of dizziness and sleep and sweat on my skin,
Of hospital rooms and medication and IVs,
Of kind doctors who apologized when they caused me pain and
Kind nurses who helped when I could not stifle my cries —
And most of all, of all the mental pain —
The panic attacks and the suicidal thoughts and the mood swings and the crying spells and the despair that I just wished would end;
And as I listen to my music and dream my dreams I feel the familiar ache of longing mixed with loss,
I think, what is my life but this?
Who am I but a patient, someone who is sick?
I am so happy I am finally sort of happy,
But sometimes I feel I am walking on a ridge that has no end,
Constantly balancing with every step,
But knowing every day I could slip again;
And the snow will numb my hands and the rock will scrape my knees and my stomach will once again feel the fear of falling,
And how hard will it be to climb back up?
So I spend some of my time dreaming of the far future and some of my time stuck in the present and the past,
And I pray that I will look back on this moment,
Years and years from now,
And read my poems and hear my songs and think,
Look at my life.
I am proud.
I am happy.
I am grateful.
And I would not change a thing.
Just some recent thoughts and emotions I needed to get off my chest.