Well, it’s Friday! I apologize for my absence last week.
A few of my local EndoSisters are going in for surgeries next week. And they are both holding their heads high and forging ahead. But I also know they may harbor the doubts and fears we all hear in the back of our heads just before a surgery: “What if they don’t find anything?” “What if it’s all in my head?” “What if it’s back?”
Well, today’s quote is for them. And for you. I’ve been blessed with this illness because I’ve met some of the bravest people I’ve ever known. The strongest. The most supportive. And even then, we need comfort; even we Warriors need to be held, to be comforted, to be reminded that we are worthwhile. And when the bad days and flares rear their ugly head, remember this:
“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.” ― Mary Anne Radmacher
Keep looking forward. As much as you can. And when you’re curled up in a ball on the bed, crying because pain meds aren’t kicking in, or upset because someone didn’t believe you, or you’re just overwhelmed over the entire idea of this illness and any inabilities it may create…remember that there is always tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.
And if you need it, take my hand. I’m right here with you. And we can do this, together.
And it’s been a weird one. Grief, and pain, and doubt, and anger, and calm, and sadness, and nothingness, and joy. Not just because of the failing health of my uncle. But life in general. I’ve started writing in a journal again once a day, trying to get it all out without letting it bury me, or those around me.
And it’s helping.
“Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I’ll try again tomorrow.” ― Mary Anne Radmacher
The photo above was taken by me during Day One of my last period on May 2, 2018. Although it is a posed image, it also wasn’t at the same time. I set up my camera, the pill bottles, the tea, the heating pad, and then clicked the “self-timer” button. As soon as the shutter released, I remained in that position most of the day. I wallowed in my pain and sorrow. The next day, I was able to go to work (still medicated), but able to actually get in my car, drive to work, and function. The next day was slightly easier.
Whatever we are going through, we will make it. Today may seem hopeless or dark, but keep putting one foot in front of the other – every day.
And we can persevere together.
Love you guys. Have a great weekend. And find that courage to keep moving.
“Courage doesn’t always roar, sometimes it’s the quiet voice at the end of the day whispering ‘I will try again tomorrow.’”
At our support group meeting this week, we talked a lot about courage. Not only the courage to come to the group, and to find others going through the same thing, but the courage to challenge a doctor’s opinion, to seek another, to refuse medication (or even to accept it). The courage to move forward with a surgery or find alternative treatments. And the courage to move forward each day.
Tammy, this one’s for you. And thank you for being so amazing.