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.