We all have our dreams, and in my case, I have worked very hard to reach them, even though not always achieved.
Some days I feel I still have the will to move mountains, others it seems the hills in my path are way too steep and rocky.
- Am I aiming too high? Is the stumbling part of the process? How can I balance what I want with what I can?
- What if I am going in the wrong direction? Is life telling me something I am not understanding?
- Am I focusing on things that are not right for me anymore?
There is still so much will inside of me, maybe this is the warrior’s strength, lupies talk so much about. Nevertheless, I am not always strong enough to keep my head straight.
Redesigning my life has been a journey, and that is why I decided to start this blog. I wanted to share with others, hoping to have a place where people like me who live with an autoimmune disease could share their hurdles, hold hands, and become stronger together.
Changes take long sometimes, and I wish it were different. My disability process is still running after more than a year, and somehow, I have it as a milestone to be able to move on to my new me.
I wonder if becoming something fresh, means having to deconstruct what I had been for 40+ years.
Having to remodel myself is a constant state of effort, energy, curiosity, and perseverance that I don’t always have.
– But do I have another option? Do I want to give up? Probably not.
I have to say I ask these questions consistently, as I am opening new grounds, exploring areas of my life I have never been. This is a new place, still scary, tiring and unknown.
My mom tells me to look at nature to see God and listen to His lessons. The variety of animals with different skills, the beautiful sculpture of each flower, the length and order of the seasons, the discipline of the birds, the fact after a long night, there is always a new day. All of that makes me think.
I look at my backyard, and I see God’s different messages. The sun-loving deciduous trees shed their teeth during the wintertime, and go to a semi-death state. I look at them and only see the trunk. No life, no green, no beauty during the cold season.
Are they teaching me a message of hope at the beginning of Spring, when small buds start to pop everywhere in a matter of weeks, an apparently lifeless tree becomes a piece of art, with new colors, different shapes, talking to the wind as the breeze touches their hair?
I want to be like them, but not always. I want to reborn, but not going through the self-reflection, inward, dead period every year because it’s painful and scary. But is it possible to skip this process and continue to grow? I am not sure.
It is now summertime here in Oregon, but I still feel my inner winter. I keep looking for the beauty and life of my own bare trunk and getting stronger to be able to hold the ground as big trees do.
One day at a time. One season at a time. Patience is the essence. I am not there yet.
Wishing you a life full of springs and beautiful days, with hope and self-acceptance.