Defeat is a strong word. For a long time, it felt like I was defeated. It felt like I had no more fight. It felt like everything I had been fighting for had been stripped from my life. I still felt like a shell at the end of the day. I admit, I didn’t feel depressed during all this. Even during the days I describe as darkness. It was more a shock and awe that had caught me by surprise.
The feeling of defeat was exhausting. One day it just left and I had this sense of surrender I had never felt in my life. I had spent my life fighting for what I believed in. Fighting for what I wanted out of my life. Fighting for what? At this point, it seemed like a wasted effort and energy. I was realizing at all this fighting had left me vulnerable. If I hadn’t fought through the pain in the first place, I may not have ended up hear. This echoed as a daily theme. I had messed up and put myself here. I was the master of my demise. I was the one who broke me because I didn’t listen.
The diagnosticians told me otherwise. That this would have happened regardless, maybe not on the exact timeline, but it was going to happen. This was the hand that I was dealt and I needed to start accepting this otherwise I was going to do my esteem damage.
That was a hard thing to accept. That something in my life was not fully in my control. I had always felt responsible for everything that happened in my life – good and bad. There were some turns of luck in either direction, but I had a hand in all of it. According to them, I did not have a hand in this and I would not have a hand in it in future. It was done. My fate was sealed. I needed to get on with my life.
Letting go of that life I had been fighting so hard for was a daily battle. There were days that I couldn’t. I could feel my roots so tightly wound around that life and I didn’t want to break those. After all, this was what I wanted since I was little. How was I supposed to unwind myself from that long and big of a dream?
Mondays were the worst. They were the days that I woke up excited to live in that life which would crumble quickly as the memory of what was happening to my body crept in and I could feel those roots tighten to hold onto what I wanted so badly.
Eventually, I got tired of the roots pulling so hard at my past. I was tired of avoiding my present let alone my future. I remember sitting by the river and making a decision that this was the fate I had been handed. I could tie my roots around it and integrate myself. I could find a new path which was unknown in every sense to me. I would be flying blind as I no longer knew what I wanted. I no longer knew where I was going. I could give in and let the new adventure begin. That night, I decided to do just that.