Being strong

You know what I did last night?

I cried myself to sleep.

Because I’m sick of pretending that I’m “ok” or that I’m supposed to be “over” the last year and a half or that I should just “move on” and be happy.

You do it. You go through what I went through physically and mentally and then tell me how “I’m ready to move on” or how “it’s ok to not be ok.”

I’m not saying that everyone else doesn’t have their own shit going on that could be just as big as this. But you know what’s going on in my head? Nightmares. While I’m fully awake. Of bad things happening again. Last April at this time, I was about to make a rapid decline for the worst and I had to be put back on ECMO for a second time, while I was panicking, sweating, and coughing up blood and the doctors were all standing over me trying to decide what to do and I remember hearing a nurse say “why can’t we just sedate her?”

Why wasn’t I just sedated while they came up with a game plan? Why do I remember every second of it playing like a horror movie?

Be kind. Everyone is still healing from things they don’t speak about.

xo