When I get well, I’m going to sew again. Curtains, bags, big heavy fabrics, things cut on the bias, things with mismatched patterns and textures. I’m going to make jewelry. And write. My brain will work so well, that I’ll be able to harness the ideas that I have and make them sing out into the world.
I’m going to go out to hear bands. Like The Dentists and The New Standards. I’m going to go out for dinner at places where I don’t need to worry about how stinky the clientele might be with their party clothes and their perfume.
Oh. Parties. I think the last party I went to was when my baby was still a baby. I wore him on my back, or in a sling. And he slept from the overwhelm.
When I get well, I will take my kids to park classes and swimming lessons and tae kwon do. I will go on vacations and have kids over to play and he will be invited to playdates and birthday parties and people will expect us.
I will go to church at whatever time I want. Sit where I want. Talk to people when I want, even if they were a little heavy handed on the scent before they left the house.
I will go to the Holland Neighborhood Hotdish Event. Because I’ve missed it the last 3 years. Because I love it. Because I miss my community. Because I’ve gone invisible. And I’ll wear my handmade bags on my shoulder. My strong, working shoulder. I will even carry a hardcover book by Joyce Carol Oates in the bag. Because I’m strong. And I can.
I’ll go back to yoga and pay attention to how much my fascia is damaged, rather than trying to override it and make it do the poses the way they are supposed to be done. I will kick to handstand. And do a backbend. I will.
And I will teach. Oh, how I will teach. I’ll have salons for teenagers about sex. Yoga for boys with lose joints. Psychic Development classes. Energy Work classes. I will develop programs and build community and support chronically ill artists. And I will teach dark, dark, dark fiction. Because it is in the dark that we find the strength of the light.
I will volunteer at KFAI. I’ll even clean the bathrooms. I don’t care. I just want to be there, watching radio be made. Radio without Boundaries.
I want to be tagged in a photo on facebook because I’ve been spotted in the world. It’s been about 2 years now. Maybe longer.
I intend to ride a bike, or maybe a trike. And buy some new clothes. And live on the edge and wear sandals instead of my orthopedic inserts.
I will make theater. Not only about Lyme, but about other things. I will audition to be in the 10 minute play festival at Bedlam Theatre. I will apply for grants and make art and sing (metaphorically) in the world.
My friendships will thrive. Even the ones that have fallen away due to judgment or neglect or misunderstanding or bad feelings.
I will someday believe in a higher power of some sort. One that holds ME up, not just the other people in the world who are more deserving. That lie will vanish and I will feel supported.
I will one day be able to pay forward all of the emotional/physical/financial gifts our family has received in the past three years.
I will live to see my children graduation high school, and college and find partners and most importantly, GET WELL. Because I know that they can.
My trees will be cut down, and new ones replaced. My perennial garden, that is tended very little, will be flourishing, and I will remember the tears I shed when other people needed to do my weeding and splitting and planting. And I will grow brussel sprouts. And have chickens.
Some day, I will feel good. Well. And I will be in a place of contentment. I will have days where there is nothing to heal, nothing to fix, and nothing I need to figure out.
I want that day to be today. It isn’t. But maybe it will be tomorrow. I just hold the hope.