A Life I Dreamed of

“Today I will remember how much I used to dream of where I am now.” - @toyoufromsteph

The progress has been slow. But it’s there. That much is undeniable.

There was a time, not long enough ago, when I used to wonder if I’d ever be functional again. If I’d ever be okay.

I used to dream of a different life. Of my dream life.

I used to dream of peaceful drives with music on, replacing the urgent, quiet rides to the hospital, when I gazed out the window consumed with dread, wondering what I was headed for.

I used to dream of food. I would imagine savoring all the foods I missed and craved, but could not risk consuming. Food was my entire vision board one year. Burgers, pizzas, milkshakes, juices, even salads.

I used to dream of going out just for the heck of it. Sunday lunches with family, new restaurants, the beach, my cousins’ house. I missed it all as I watched every one else live normal lives.

I used to dream of one day finally being able enough to get my driver’s license. To get behind the wheel one way or another in this unpredictable life.

Most of all, though, I dreamed of comfort. I longed to lay down and actually be at rest in my body. I longed to not feel. Anything at all.

If I’m honest, I didn’t really have much hope. I didn’t think these things were possible for me. It was hard to imagine the damage, both physiological and mental, not being permanent.

A few years have passed now, and quite automatically, things have changed. I say ‘automatically’ because I didn’t put in much effort. You see, effort requires hope. You have to think getting better is even a possibility to begin trying.

But I guess a cliché has been gradually proving itself true to me over the last few years: ‘Time heals most.’

I go out almost every day now, just for the heck of it. Sunday lunches with family, new restaurants, the beach, my cousins’ house.

I eat now. All of the things on that old vision board that seemed like an impossible fantasy at the time. Burgers, pizzas, milkshakes, juices, even salads. I eat them as and when I please, savoring each bite like it’s my first time tasting life.

Drives are peaceful now. I look out the window as we whizz past this ever-changing city, my favorite music blaring through the speakers, not an ounce of urgency or dread around.

Not only that, I am no longer confined to the passenger seat. I finally got my driver’s license. First try. And I got my first car, too. I am behind the wheel now, in more ways than one.

Best of all, though, I have found comfort. I lay down and fall asleep, feeling nothing of significance, not hyper aware of bodily sensations, not worrying about whether I will be okay.

I am okay.

Some times, I wish I could forget all that happened during those dreadful years. But then, during times like these, when I reflect on the long way that I have come, the memories make even the tiniest glint of progress feel immense.

I still have a ways to go, to truly be and feel free of the past. But today, I am living a life I begged for, a life I dreamed of for so long.

I have found a sense of contentment, albeit one that fluctuates, but I just chalk that up to being human.

But more importantly, as time has progressed and taken me along, I have begun to like life again. I am almost grateful I exist. 

And that’s a feeling I hadn’t even dared to dream of.