Love this quote:

“You cannot hope to sweep someone else away by the force of your writing until it has been done to you.” – Stephen King

Daring to dream – I am.

Growing up I always did exactly what I was supposed to do, except a couple times I hid my pills in my desk drawers and a few times (many) when I fed the dog my food because I just couldn’t get all the food down in the required time.  Waffles, syrup, and butter went down the quickest I think.

My parents were militant in my care.  So much so, I spent my lunchtime with the school nurse for my first, second, and third grade school years; my mom fearing I would not take my enzymes correctly.  Perhaps she had some justification, but a bit overkill.

The nurse and I had a lot of bonding time. I talked, hid pens, pencils, and that little rubber thing that goes over your finger to flip through papers faster; looks like a want-to-be finger puppet that needs wardrobe and make-up. Odd little thing.

By the end of the third grade my friends urged me to ask my mom to eat with them, never quite understanding why I had to eat with the school nurse in the first place.

I delayed asking, fearing my mom’s answer, but the school year was ending soon so I tried.  That particular evening my mom was not in the happiest of moods, and I just couldn’t ask. Instead, I wrote a note to the nurse in my third grade handwriting, signed my mom’s name, and handed it to her the next morning. The nurse, obviously, knew it was not my mom’s handwriting, called my mom, and I proceeded to be grounded that weekend.

I finished the year eating with the school nurse, but by fourth grade I finally could eat with my friends.  However, the nurse was still obligated to make frequent visits to check on me.

How it all began –

You see – I am not sure if I shared this before, but when I was at worst, so my mom says, my doctor said to her, paraphrasing:

“This disease asks you to be perfect like God.  I want you to understand, even if you are – Tessa may still not live.”

I believe he was saying, “Do not blame yourself if this happens”, but a parent does not absorb those words lightly.  That set the course for every minute and moment thereafter.  We were all on survival mode – not that we were ever aware of it.

Stepping over.

As years went by, in my late teens and early twenties I finally got it – all this doing, our noses to the grind, sticking to the task at hand; always fearing the worst could happen at anytime, shoulders tight for all those years, was just surviving.

I could not do it anymore. It made me want to vomit.  It is no wonder I ran away.

I wanted to jump into life with both feet, and my heart has always been pumping towards that –

So I sit, living all these years, and least trying my best.  Now, living differently, being in awe of Day 3.  I can take a deeper breath in, and better yet – many times I can blow out without coughing.  My legs feel stronger.  I slept like a rock. It is like my main engine is switching over.

The idea of dreaming, like real dreams is starting to resonate.

I feel a tap; tap; tap; on my shoulders, and it is Life looking at me. Nodding. Smiling.

“Girl look at that body.”
“Girl look at that body.”
“Girl look at that body – I work-out!” – LMFAO.

Citations:
King, Stephen. On writing.  A Memoir of the Craft. New York.  Scribner. 2000.

LMFAO. “Sexy and I know it.” 2011.