When we come to the edge of all the light we have,
And we must take a step into the darkness of the unknown,
We must believe one of two things: Either we will find
something firm to stand on, Or we will be taught to fly.
I feel as though I’ve had two lives; the one before I became ill, and the one that followed. They are as different as night and day. I am as different as well. Serious illness is a strange thing; a monster that comes raging into your life and strips you of everything inconsequential and a few things that aren’t (inconsequential, I mean). It takes away your independence and sometimes your dignity if you let it. It leaves with you with pain and isolation, oh, and fear. Let’s not forget the F E A R. And if your illness is chronic, as mine is, you will never be free of it. Never again move through the world in the same way. The beginning was the worst. But then, I think all beginnings are scary – all that not knowing.