Routines become boring. It makes no difference how intense or desired; because the excitement loses its luster and the fear loses its potency, making the routine droll.
In my beautiful life you will either find me in a hospital, or you won’t be able to find me at all. My commitment to the health of myself and family keeps me firmly planted in the present; but the gypsy heart inside of me always tries to escape. But this routine has become boring. Nights spent in the hospital barely touch my skin – as the desensitization that sinks into the nation finds a personal place inside me. The initial disappointment and frustration are the same, but then the numbness of familiarity soothes the pains away. When these moments pass, I go, literally to anywhere that I can. I used to disguise my sadness in wanderlust, but as the adventures progress my eagerness fades and obligations kick in; it feels more like a chore.
I try to be present. Absorbing the moment and experiencing it in totality. But in the present I crave to be alone – not in sadness or angst – but in a sense of solitude. It gives me a moment to listen to all the whisperings that are coming from within. I have ignored them for so long, and it has served me no justice.
Today I turn two. It was two years ago today that I was deemed ‘cured.’ And like most two year olds I am wobbling around trying to make sense of my emotions. Still unclear on how to describe how I am feeling, I simply think of feeling good or feeling bad. Sometimes I even feel okay. The more I sit with myself and take charge of all the things I have always wanted to, I notice the good days start to outnumber the bad. The okay days start to develop a higher threshold of ‘okayness’ and what I want for myself becomes a little clearer. Like a two year old I don’t know how to hold back. I am full on Stevie Lo all the time. I am loving my family and friends without condition, and feeling excited about simple things. Yet when I am down, I fall into my hardest and darkest of places. I feel everything with extreme sensitivity, and I can’t mask that. I don’t know that I need to – because it’s authentic and it helps me process everyday a bit easier.