I haven’t written in a while. First I was too unwell to write, and then too well, becoming busy with other pursuits. And then I felt that I had already written about what I wanted to say. I’ve written countless posts about perception, fluctuating symptoms, and invisible and visible disabilities. I’ve talked about doctor-patient interactions, accessibility, and transportation. I’ve talked about the process of searching for a diagnosis and then getting one, and I’ve talked about surgery and recovery. What more is there to say? But of course, there’s always something more. There are always new experiences and perspectives. We don’t live in a static world - the only constant we have is change.
And since I last posted, things have definitely changed. The change has been slow and gradual, creeping up behind me. Or maybe it hasn’t been subtle at all and I’ve been refusing to acknowledge its presence.
It can be scary to acknowledge change. Scary when it’s hard, but also scary when it’s positive.
When you’re at the bottom of a pit, there’s no place to fall. And that can be comforting. It’s easy to dream from a place with no risk.
But as soon as you begin to climb out of the pit, suddenly your instincts scream at you to be cautious. Because now there’s something to lose. And the higher you climb, the more crushing the fall.
The past two weeks have been a whirlwind. I had my first audition in 5 years. I performed in a show. I received the master copy of my first single - the details of which will be coming soon. I applied for a scholarship and a degree program. I gave a speech and sang the national anthem at a beautiful fundraising event.
And in the coming weeks I’ll be filming a video for the first time. I’ll have my first class of Second City’s year long Conservatory Program. I’ll be moving apartments. I’ll be launching an incredibly exciting fundraising campaign - the details will be coming soon for that as well.
I feel like I’m caught in the middle of a beautiful and terrifying storm, wide eyed and unsure of how exactly I got here.
Everything feels like it’s happened so suddenly. But of course, it hasn’t. It’s happened gradually over the last year and a half since my surgery, as I’ve slowly found my new normal and built a life around it. It’s happened over the past 4 years, since I finally realized that I would have to reevaluate my goals and dreams for the future. It’s happened over the past 6 years, since my symptoms first took over my life. It’s happened over the past 23 years as I’ve lived, experienced, learnt, and grown, and it’s happened because of the wonderful people who have helped me along the way.
There are some big things coming up next month and I can’t wait to share them with you.
It’s time that I acknowledge the change.