When I first got sick in 2018, I bought a mini storage unit. We had no idea where life was going to take me at that point. Part of me was convinced I’d stay with my mom for two months, get better (LOL), find medicine that helped and then I’d go right back to my career and move in somewhere. Two months came and went. Two years came and went. My bed. My clothes. My belongings. My life. All quaintly tucked away in a little 5×10 unit.
I came to the realization that I have been storing my old self in that storage unit like Vodlemort stored a part of his soul in Harry Potter. If all my old life is still in this unit, I can still go back to that life. It isn’t over. It.can’t.be.over.
I left in such a rush, my lovely sister and brother in law moved all my belongings into the unit for me. I had a general inventory of what was in there but over time you forget.
Everytime I would visit my sister, health permitting, she would take me to the unit so I could sort through my clothes and belongings to see if we could Goodwill anything. It was emotionally taxing. Especially my prized work wardrobe. It was everything to me. If I could just wear them again, everything would be fine. Getting rid of them felt too final. Everytime we went, I kept things even if it didn’t make sense because I was just sure I would resume my old life at any moment. My sister was always on the edge of pulling an Elsa and yelling, “LET IT GO”. It took me a while to come to grips with how debilitatingly sick I was/am. When you’re watching your new career pass you by. When you’ve paid off the student loans of a college degree you can’t even come close to using right now. When you’re realizing you can’t casually go on a run. When it feels like everything you’ve done to get where you got was all for nothing, you’ll hold on to anything. For me it was bags of beautiful horcrux skirts.
(I’ve got a lil pile in my sister’s garage now and we are one trip and a large suitcase away from having the transferable parts of my life on a plane.)
You know how when you’re driving and you miss a turn and the navigation system immediately begins recalculating? It searches for the best way to get you back on your original path. There are instances though where maybe the traffic or some circumstance won’t permit the U- turn your navigation suggests. At some point your navigation is going to throw in the towel and say, “rerouting”. It then proceeds to find your new path.
Let me tell you though, from experience? Much easier to reroute your gps than your life.
Most chronically ill people face that decision at one point in their health journey. Sometimes your “how do I get back to being healthy?” path turns into a “how do we live a meaningful life with this?”
I’m trying to have both of those paths coexist right now. Prayerfully hoping and working toward healing but also imagining life with POTS in varying degrees.You know what though? I have the ultimate safety net of a great God and I have the most amazing support anyone could ever hope to have. I know no matter how this pans out, I will be loved. Maybe, just maybe, letting go of yourself (no matter how fabulous) is how you find your new self. Dare I say it, your best self.
I am trying my best to make a space for this new Mariah. No matter what that entails.
Where are you metaphorically or literally storing yourself that’s preventing you from moving forward?
Photography : Alexandrea Leigh
My lovely dress by : Madeline Marie
potsiemouth 