Story time

There was a time where I thought I’d never walk without my cane again. Standing up without my cane seemed like a pipe dream. In my dreams I would always be walking. I’d be flying too. Only to wake up and reach for my cane to walk a foot to the bathroom. At first I couldn’t even use the bathroom on my own because of my tremors. Mom would help me and cry I am sure. 5 years later and here I am. Not only standing up on my own but walking a mile without stopping. I used to have panic attacks just thinking about crossing a busy street. And now I can cross the road with great ease. Don’t even have to hold my breathe. Breathe Beth. Breathe. Some things take time. When I lost the ability to be a normal human who walked and talked like any other person I felt like a burden. Too much work for my loved ones and the world at large. Someone who the medical field shunned and who no one wanted to be around. I wanted to be Someone who blended in instead of standing out and someone who people wouldn’t feel sorry for just by looking at them. That’s all I really wanted. Then. Eventually. To be loved. Oh yeah. And to be able to apply liquid eye liner without gouging my eye. But back to being loved. I wanted To be loved for me flaws and all. When I first met my boyfriend I looked like the picture on the right. Bent over. Hand on cane. Scared shitless to be alive. Scared to walk. Scared to talk without a hearty stutter and hyperventilating. Every step I took felt like I was walking on quicksand or shards of glass. I used to compare myself to the OG little mermaid. Then I would watch the movie and sing part of your world and cry at the thought of never being able to dance with a partner or go to a gathering. My legs would buckle and I fell more times than I can count. I imagine the pain from those falls are still there. He accepted me and saw past my temporary setback and saw my soul. He loved me. And saw potential in me. He believed that i would get better but if I didn’t get better he’d love me still. As I walked home today my right hip started hurting. But I didn’t give up or call my mom to pick me up. As much as I am known sonomously for being doom and gloom too old to be emo chick I really have come a long way and have found that no matter how hard things get I can get through it. I don’t have to use drugs and I don’t have to self harm. I feel. I let myself feel. Then I release. Thanks mom for being there for me when I needed you the most. I couldn’t have done it without you. And even though you’re not on social thanks to my bf for showing me what It feels like to be loved. For me. No front. No mask. No showmanship. Just me. As I am


Published by Brigitte af Transmorvica

interests include blogging personal improvement chromotherapy root work and herbal remedies shadow work talking about my past to heal and help others mental illness mental wellness pain spirituality working with our ancestors spell tutorials fashion makeup family dynamics healthy boundries discovering ones own inner beauty homelessness addiction recovery childhood wounds attatchment styles self care creative block art happiness inspiration hope depression movies music traumatic brain injury Joker and Harley Quinn love bipolar borderline coping strategies complex ptsd self harm stuffies pets little space quarentine books relationships ego

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