Maybe it’s a midlife crisis. Whatever this is that I’m going through. Maybe it’s an early identity, age, and life crisis. Maybe the process was sped up by the illness. I suppose there are some things in life that are always going to be an educated guess.
Maybe things change more than they even tell you when you get sick.
I don’t know what else to call it. I simply say, “I got sick.” I am unsure how else to quickly explain what happened to my life.
I got sick.
Nearly two years ago, I woke up sick. I couldn’t walk and while it’s been two years, it has been a hard two years. It’s been two years filled with fighting for my life, fighting for normalcy, and fighting to simply know that I have an emotion other than being crushed by the weight of the world.
And so, as I type, I am reflecting. I am looking back at what I lost, at all I never did, at all the times I was lazy, opting for easy rather than quality. I have not had as many quality life experiences as I would have liked.
It’s a terrible process of assessing what used to be, cataloging it, and deciding what bits can come with me into my new life and what bits can’t.
And being house bound has hurt my view of the world. And being housebound has made it more painful to be round people. A general populace that doesn’t understand, that stares, that would rather pass judgment on another human than to understand.
And maybe it’s easier that way. To deny that things may not always be perfect. Who wants to think of that? And I am living and walking proof that life doesn’t always reward the good and punish the bad.
And as I catalogue, as I watch the world turn and wonder where I will ever fit into it, I feel sad, I feel lost, I feel unsure of what to do now.
Call it an early midlife crisis. Call it an existential dilemma. Whatever you want to call it, it amounts to being unsure of whether I even fit into a world that turns more rapidly than my poor broken body can keep up with.