I used to spend a lot of time thinking I wasn’t good enough. An embarrassing amount.

Finally I realized I was. It took a lot of people believing in me, and it took trying things I wasn’t sure i could do a long time ago, but I got to a point where I could honestly say, “I can do this.”

Until I couldn’t.

I progressively lost my ability to do the things that provide the most fulfillment. Expressing myself creatively, venting, having heart-to-hearts with my near and dear ones. Sure there are alternative methods, but I couldn’t marry them.

I held onto hope that it would get better for a long time.

I still have that hope, but sometimes it’s hard to see. Yes I’ve had surgery. Now the real waiting game begins.

In 2-3 months, can I sing? Can I talk regularly? Or will I be part of that 15% that just doesn’t get to go on like they used to?

I know I can survive it if I do, but not without a lot of mourning. It’s been hard not to mourn already. But hope won’t let me. I feel like if I mourn, I’m giving up.

So I’ll keep trying to pretend like I know it will be fine, in hopes that it eventually will.

I just can’t help but wish I had gone for it sooner. That I knew I could when I could.



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