Last week I had an unidentified virus, or so that’s what the ER told me. For two days I could barely move, eat, or stay awake. Seeking in person medical care can be quite challenging when you live alone in a second floor apartment. If I had managed to make it to the door, then there were the stairs. If I somehow made it safely down the stairs, then there was the walk across the parking lot to my car. And if against all odds I made it that far I would have had nothing left in me to drive.
So there it is.
I’ve worked tirelessly in my recovery. My personal marathon with endless trainings, injuries, and medals. I’m not racing against anyone else, just enjoying the scenery of my recovery. For the most part I’d like to consider myself a fairly independent person. People run along side me at certain points, but there are long stretches where it’s just me.
I am a fierce warrior.
Last week that virus took away that part of me and benched her. It is in these moments I truly feel the depth of my loneliness. The lack of the partner to support me when I am unable to support myself. Someone to make me soup, care for my bunny, and gently stroke my hair as I fall asleep. The virus reminded me of what I was missing in all that I have.
I have no “In Case of Emergency.”
When I’m well I feel that I can do all the things. I will persevere through challenges that the past version of myself never could have. I will run, skip, and gallop my marathon. I’m still fully and always aware of those things I do not have. However, they are that off in the distance. I choose not to focus on them.
Unfortunately I get sick and injured far more often than the average person. Genetics, lifestyle, a curse from a Greek God I angered….whatever the reason may be, this is my reality. I’ll push through and find a way 95% of the time. Sometimes to my own detriment.
But I don’t want to.
If I fall, I want someone to catch me. I want someone to hold me in their arms while I cry. I want someone to hold up a sign cheering me on while I run my marathon.
Yet I battle with myself about this concept that I can’t be both independent and dependent at the same time. Who decided this? I certainly didn’t. There’s this overwhelming weight of expectations to fit neatly into a box and I don’t want to be a part of it. There’s a balance somewhere in tall of this that I’m trying to figure out. Unsure what it looks like or how I’ll get there.
I want to try NOT to try and know that that’s okay.