Category Archives: All Blog Posts

2

Me too.

[You might be seeing a lot of “me too” posted on your social media feed. If you do not know why, it’s a way that people are bringing awareness to the massive amounts of people that have been sexually harassed or assaulted. Writing “me too”, means you are in that statistic.]

I spoke out a while back, and it was the best thing I ever did. I will never be free from it. I’ve had people make comments that I should move on from this, and let it go. 

Nightmares cannot be simply let go. 

Panic attacks cannot be let go. 

The hurt cannot be let go. 

To the people that think it’s easy to move on from this pain- it’s not. It’s far from easy. I am married, and I still have nightmares. I am married, and I still have moments where I cannot emotionally, mentally, or physically handle being touched. I am married, and I still have moments where I question every single little thing. 

I am not married to the guy that caused me to write, “me too”. I am married to an amazing guy, that has treated me with the upmost respect from day one. 

and yet, I still am reaping the effects of the abuse. 

I used to promise myself I would never tell a soul. I promised I would forget about it, and move on. 

Well, moving on is impossible when you’ve been hurt in this way. 

Soon after, I developed very bad coping mechanisms. Some of which I am honestly surprised I am still alive. 

Sexual assault and rape bring on a tremendous amount of guilt, and shame, even though we did nothing wrong. Yet, in our eyes, we did. 

Afterwards, I felt like I could never say “no” to someone else. Scared if I did, the person would ignore me. I felt like my “no” would not matter. 

The fact that we live in a society where we are afraid to say “no” saddens me. 

The fact that we live in a society where there are millions of “me too” statuses saddens me. 

There are way too many people posting this. Way too many people have been hurt. Way too many people have been affected by someone that took something that did not belong to them. 

I think it’s amazing that people are speaking out. And it’s hard. It’s hard to type the two little words- me too. 

And you don’t have to. You don’t have to speak out. You don’t have to type those words if you are not ready. Speaking out before you are truly ready will only cause more pain. 

Tell a trusted friend. Write it out on paper. Pray about it. Tell yourself in the mirror. 

It doesn’t matter what you do. Speaking out doesn’t have to be writing a blog post, or sharing it with hundred of people on Facebook. It can simply be admitting to yourself that what they did was wrong. 

Admitting to yourself is the biggest step. 

It’s the right step in the right direction. 

Admitting the guy did something wrong was the hardest thing for me. I couldn’t imagine he’d ever want to hurt me. But, that was the lies I continued to feed myself, after him feeding it to me. 

Admit they were in the wrong– not you. 

Accept that it happened, and that you cannot go back in time. 

Acknowledge that you are not alone, even though it feels like it. 

Always remember that you are worthy of the right kind of love, even after this. 

 

1

You hurt me, but you did not win.

You hurt me.

And you’ll never know.

You’ll never know the pain you caused or the damage you caused me in my future relationships.

You’ll never know and honestly, no one else will either. No one will ever truly understand what I’ve gone through the past year. No one knows the nightmares I have at night or the fear I feel in the dark, laying in bed.

Just like you will never know.

And maybe you do know. I sometimes wish I could sit across from you and explain to you what you caused but I know that you’ll never understand it. You’ll just put the blame on me, like you’ve done already.

But if I could get you to understand the damage you caused, maybe another girl will not go through this hell you’ve caused. And I pray everyday you haven’t already caused it to her.

I will never understand why “no” never meant “no” to you.

You liked to be in control, and that’s what you did. You controlled me.

And I admit, I allowed you to control me, but deep down I was scared of you. I didn’t know how to get away. It took me being 300 miles away to finally break free from the physical control, but the emotional part still lingers.

I don’t write this to make you think you won- because you didn’t.

But I didn’t win either. Neither of us did.

I write this in hopes that one day I’ll find the healing I so desperately want, and that if there’s someone else out there that was hurt in the same way you hurt me, that she’ll know she’s not alone, and with every day she can find beauty in the little things and slowly find the healing she deserves.

You hurt me, but that doesn’t mean you won.

1

I was her.

I was you. The girl that thinks her turn will never come. The girl that wanted the fairytale but felt like she wasn’t worthy of the happy ending. The girl that prayed and prayed for her price charming to show up. I was her.

I was her. The girl that had her heart broken when a guy chose someone else besides her. The girl that wanted to be more than “just friends”. The girl that thought no one would ever love her. I was her. 

I was her. The girl that wasn’t happy when she looked in the mirror and thought to herself, “why would anyone want to be with me”. The girl that would put a measuring tape around her waist to see how much her worth was for that day. The girl that would skip a meal because that meant that maybe, just maybe, she would one day lose enough weight to be deemed pretty. I was her. 

I was her. The girl that struggled with an eating disorder for eight years in secrecy. The girl that saw a number on a scale being equal to how much love she deserved from a guy. The girl that felt her size made her undesirable. I was her.

I was her. The girl that felt like she would never have her first kiss. The girl that felt like she’d never be able to mark “have a boyfriend” off her list. The girl that felt like her worth could be measured by how many dates she went on, or how many compliments she’d get. I was her. 

I was her. The girl that thought no one would ever love her. The girl that thought, “what guy in his right mind will ever want me”. The girl that thought she’d never find ‘The One’. The girl that had the perfect wedding planned on Pinterest but never thought it would happen for her. 

That girl was me. I was her. I was the girl that never thought she’d be loved. The girl that thought she wasn’t worthy of anything more. The girl that sat on the sidelines as she watched everyone else have their happy ending but never thought her ending would be happy. 

I am now the girl that knows my worth is not measured by a number on a scale. My worth is not measured by the amount of compliments I receive. My worth is not measured by anyone. My worth is not defined by anything. I am worthy of love. I am a girl that prayed and prayed for a fairytale but never expected it to happen. 

You are worthy of love. Your fairytale will come true. I promise you. Because I was once her.

1

Emotional abuse: you are not alone.

Writing has always been my form of healing. But, sharing that with the world isn’t easy. There’s really only one person I ever talk about this with, and seeing how I’m marrying that person, it’s kind of needed. 

Last year, I met a guy who told me he’d change my life, but little did I know the way he’d change it wasn’t anything like what I expected. You may refer back to “Speaking Out- I forgive you” if you want a little recap. Anyways-

That last post was the first time I ever opened up about it. The first time I was able to set it free. I thought it’d get better. The dreams. The anxiety attacks. The pounding in my chest when someone would mention something that brought back memories. 

Memories that I want so badly to forget. 

Most think the relationship we had was just a short fling that meant nothing. 

Yes, it was short, but it didn’t mean nothing- it meant that I was forever bound with nightmares. Forever living with flashbacks. Trust me, I wish it meant simply nothing. It meant that I forever was living with something. 

I wish nothing more than to go back in time, and never have agreed to go on a date. Never agreed to give him my number. Never agreed to go to his house. Never agreed to be his girlfriend. Never agreed to many things. 

But, the past is the past, and I cannot change it. 

I read a post on Facebook the other day, and it stated: Verbal abuse is just as bad as physical abuse. Cuts and bruises heal, but memories last forever.

I think that sometimes verbal abuse gets pushed under the rug. People will tell you to just brush it off. But, those words last forever. Especially when the things being said has to do with sex, and your faith. 

So now when those two things are discussed, the memories seep back in. 

A month or so ago, I found out that on Facebook, he still had that we were in a relationship together. It might have seemed like nothing to everyone else, but to me, that was like he still had me hooked. I just wanted to be free. 

He probably thinks nothing of me. He lives every day and doesn’t have to live with those few days of hell I went through at the very end of the relationship. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Maybe she’s going through what I went through. Maybe not. Maybe he’s in another state. Maybe when he looks back, it was just a fling. 

I don’t get that luxury. I want nothing more that to be able to label it a fling. Instead, it’s a nightmare. 

I wish, so wish, that I could explain what it’s like. I know for a fact, that most think it’s nothing. You might even say I should stop bringing it up, or talking about it. But I live with this every single day. I am finally opening up about it because I had the choice: live with it, but not talk about it, or live with it and talk about it. The only way he wins is if I let him. If I hide from it. I want to let others know they aren’t alone. No matter what type of relationship it was, you aren’t alone. You are worthy. You are loved. 

To the people that say it’s nothing. Then what would you call months of nightmares? Crying in private, crying in public? Waking my fiancé up at 2am because I am scared? Having panic attacks when I see a truck that looks like his? Not being able to go to the beach without being in a constant attack? 

But sure, it’s nothing to you, but to me, it’s everything I want to forget. 

 

5

Speaking Out- I forgive you.

I never wanted to write this out. Never wanted the words to be visible. But the last few days have made me realize that until I make peace with this, and you, I will never be able to truly move past this. 

You hurt me. 

Plain and simple. You hurt me in the most vulnerable places of my soul. You took things away from me that I can never get back. 

When I first met you, you had a way about you that made me feel safe, until you slowly turned that safety into control. 

You could say jump, and I would have jumped. And you knew that. You knew that you had me right where you wanted me. 

I never wanted to write this. But you took the word no, and turned it into an I can do whatever I want. 

The first time you asked me if you could do something, and I hesitated, and said “I don’t-“, and you continued before I could finish my sentence and said, it’s no big deal.

I cried the entire way home. I cried because I thought I did something wrong. I was so confused to why someone who said they loved me, could point blank ignore my words. 

You then knew that you could do and say whatever you wanted. 

You told me that if I turned you on, I had no choice but to have sex. 

You got mad at me for saying no. You told me sex was just sex. You told me you loved me and this was what I was to do if I loved you. You told me I was a tease. You got mad at me for saying no.

I stayed. I cried. I questioned my self worth. 

It took me going on vacation to get away, yet you still had me. You still had me under your thumb. 

I was five hours away, and still tied to you. 

You were upset that I had left you to go with my family. You decided the first night I was away to send me a list of ten things I had done wrong. It all boiled down to the fact that I wouldn’t have sex with you. 

I tried to defend myself, but it didn’t matter. My wants meant nothing to you. Your so called needs were the only thing that mattered. 

I had never felt so attacked as I did reading a list of things that made me less of a person in your eyes. 

I was accused of things, yelled at, and cussed at. And then you’d come right back and tell me you loved me. I don’t know how love can be involved in such hatred. 

I was a Christian, and that was wrong to you. You told me I could believe whatever I wanted, but that you didn’t realize you were dating someone who was that much of a Christian.  

I told you I was saving certain things until marriage, and yet you took some of those very things away from me. 

And when I finally had enough of being treated that way, I felt the most immense amount of guilt for those things happening. I felt so ashamed, and I wanted to hide in my room. 

I was so scared of you, and who you were becoming, that it took me being five hours away to walk away. Yet, it’s taken me a really long time to have peace with all of it. 

I have had nightmares the last few months. I have had panic attacks when I’d see a truck that looked like yours, or someone would say something that reminded me of you. I would have flashbacks if I passed your street. I want to just forget you. Yet, when I finally try to, you come back. 

I have never written about you. When I ended things, you said now you can go write about me to the world, and that’s what I am finally doing.

I have found out what love really is. I have found a man that treats me how I deserve to be treated.

I have finally made peace with it all. 

This is me speaking out, and saying I forgive you for hurting me. I forgive you for making me doubt God. I forgive you for taking certain things away from me. I forgive you for everything. 

0

To the best friend I lost.

I miss you. Simple as that. 

I never thought in a million years we would go out separate ways. We used to joke about how we would get matching tattoos, but we would never get them with a guy- because we had more faith in our friendship than a relationship with a guy. 

I think about you daily. And it hurts. It hurts because when I wanted to cry to someone, my first instinct was to text you. When I was happy, I just wanted to share it with you. 

I’ve never experienced a pain like this. I’ve cried more tears over this friendship ending than I ever thought possible. I did not only lose a friendship but my sister. 

I not only lost you, but also your family.

You knew all my secrets. You knew me. Like truly knew me. 

I don’t know what went wrong. I mean, I can tell you from my point of view what happened, but I’m sure from your side it looks different. I want you back in my life so badly. I want to pick up where we left off. I want to run up to you and give you a huge hug. 

But I don’t even know what I’d do if I saw you. Because so much hurt has built up. I can tell you exactly why I’m hurt, but I feel like it’ll send us around in circles. 

I’m disappointed. In you. In me. In us both. 

So much has happened and all I want to do is tell you. I’m literally crying as I’m typing this. This is the hardest thing to write. To write a letter to my best friend because we can’t even talk. To write a letter about how we aren’t friends anymore. This is hard. It’s all too hard. 

And I want it to end. I want to be friends again. To go back to how it was. To be so close we laugh until we cry, and not like this where we just cry. 

I don’t know what the future holds- I just know I’m hurt, and I’m sure you’re hurt too. We both have our reasons and their both validated. I guess you can say we’re both too stubborn. 

But although our friendship is lost, I will not apologize for the reason it was lost. Just like I’m sure you don’t take back anything you said or did. 

Because in my eyes, the reason why it was lost is not a reason I will ever apologize for. 

And maybe that’s how we know it’s truly different now. Because we are both refusing to admit we’re in the wrong, shows us that we’re in two different places. 

And unfortunately best friends need to be on the same page, not in two different books. 

I miss you. I love you. And that will never change. I will always be here for you if you ever need me, and I hope the same goes for me if I ever need you. 

I’m sure everyone has their opinions and have picked their sides. 

I’ve received messages from strangers, and have seen my

picture posted on social media with rude comments attached. Obviously people have picked their side. 

But no one knows what truly happened. Not even us really. 

But what I do know is that I’m not going anywhere. I’m just done crying. I’m done picking up my phone to text you. I’m done planning all these things to say, and being scared to say them because I don’t want to be hurt. I’m done. 

But I’m here. Here if you ever are ready to talk about this- and truly talk about it. I’m just done breaking my heart over and over every single day dwelling on it. 

Love always.

2

My fairy tale.

I always wanted a fairy tale. You know, the one that the girl that is struggling never imagines she’ll have. Years ago I started struggling in secret- with anxiety, depression, and an eating disorder. I never thought that anyone would ever love me, much less, ever have my own fairy tale. 

I was single, for a very long time. I wanted to wait for the right guy. I will admit, I stumbled during that wait, but I’m proud to say that my path led me to where and who I am with today. 

If you would have asked me who my dream guy was, I would have told you many things, but none of them compared to what I actually got when God showed me the man of my dreams. 

August 6, 2016. I walked into a Dunkin Donuts. It was there that I met the most amazing guy. I ordered my coffee, and sat down across from him. What I planned to be a short trip to get coffee ended up being 5 hours at a table with a guy that I knew really nothing about. We talked about everything from school, to religion, to his purple hair, all the way down to these obnoxious tattoos that we joked about getting. 

We talked for a few days, and I knew that I wanted to get to know this guy a little better. We joked about how I was a horrible cook [which he can attest to, since he ate spaghetti with salsa the other week. I apologize in advance for any meals I torture you with]. The first joke we had was floor flavored fruity pebbles and burnt biscuits [and yes, those were two meals I failed at cooking. Basically I burned biscuits, and said I hoped my future husband liked cereal because that’s about all I could cook, and then I spilled the cereal all over the floor, so there was that plan]. 

The next week he asked me to go to a baseball game. For anyone that knows me, knows I am clueless with sports. But, I was not about to tell this guy that I had no interest in going to a baseball game, because I would sit through hours of a game I was not interested in, just to spend a second with him. August 16th I went to a baseball game. We had hours of jokes, where I intently told him he should become a Spanish rapper. Why? I don’t know, but it would make him laugh, and hearing him laugh was the best thing in the world, so I kept making these stupid jokes about him being a Spanish rapper, even though he knew no Spanish, and I’m pretty sure he can’t rap [unless he’s hidden that talent from me]. I knew then, with each laugh, and each smile he gave, I could really see this going somewhere. 

August 20th. He invited me to a family reunion. At this point, I knew I wanted more than a friendship, but I had no idea how to tell him that, because I swore I was not going to ruin this, whatever it was. I asked my brother what he thought. I’m pretty sure he thought I was crazy going to a family reunion, for a family I did not know. But, I was determined to do whatever it took to see him again, even if it meant going to a strangers house. So to a strangers house I went. My heart was beating so fast the entire drive there. I was so nervous. Not only was I seeing him again, which gave me the most intense butterflies, but I was also meeting his family. That brought even more anxiety. People throughout the night kept asking who I was, and he would tell people I was his friend, or just simply, “this is Brittany”. He claims he doesn’t remember this, but I was slightly discouraged each time because I didn’t want to be his friend, or just Brittany. But, again, I barely knew this guy, so what did I really expect.

Two days later, I left for school. Three hours away. I was sure that this guy would soon forget me. I was the girl, hours away. He could have any girl, why would he want to spend his time talking to a girl that wasn’t even in the same state? Or so I thought. We had talked every single day since the day we met at Dunkin. I was scared to lose that. The day I moved into my dorm, he was texting me. Each text literally made me so happy, because he hadn’t forgotten me, as stupid as it sounds. And it continued. I came home later that month, and on September 2nd, he asked me to go to Dragon Con the next day. I had no idea whatsoever what Dragon Con was. My first thought was, I’m talking to a guy that wants me to go to a convention where people are dressed up as dragons, but I was crazy for him, so if that was where I had to go to see him, I would fight through the Dragons. Thankfully, it wasn’t a party full of strange creatures [okay, maybe it was, but not dragons]. For anyone that knows me and my anxiety, knows I don’t do huge crowds or parties, and here I am, with thousands and thousands of people in Atlanta, a place I never like to go. I literally put myself into an anxiety trap, but it was okay. It was okay because he made me feel safe. So there I was, in the midst of all of these people dressed in costumes that I had no clue who they were, having an amazing time with this guy. I wanted so badly to tell this guy how I felt, but I had a friendship with him, and I was scared to lose that. So, I sat there, in the floor with him, laughing at costumes, having the most amazing time. I didn’t want that night to end. 

But it ended in the most amazing way. He was so nervous. I could see him shaking, and stumbling over his words. Finally, he said it, Will you go out with me? Um…. YES. Okay. I played it cool, but in my head I was screaming yes at the top of my lungs. I was so happy. On my way home, I called my best friend and told her. I just wanted to tell everyone. I hadn’t been that happy in a really long time.

September 16. We had a Netflix marathon. I was so nervous, but after hours of watching a show, I kissed him. Yes, I kissed him. If you couldn’t see from the whole novel above, he made me so happy, so I went for it. Literally terrified right after that he was going to want to just be friends or something. but, that kiss turned into him asking me to be his girlfriend. September 17th I officially started dating my best friend.

And then hours after he asked me to be his girlfriend, we went on our first actual date. Yeah, a little backwards. But it’s us.

I knew I loved him. But, I thought it was crazy to love someone I had just started dating. But, I knew a love couldn’t be faked. October 1st were the first I love you’s. 

I was scared. Scared to lose him. Scared to lose what we had. But, a few weeks later we went to a corn maze with his family. It was in that corn maze that I saw into his eyes, with the stars above us, heard his laugh as we couldn’t find our way out, and knew this was it. This was the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I laugh looking back at it. That I had that moment in the middle of corn, but it was my moment. The moment I knew this was different. The moment I knew that my fairy tale might actually happen. 

Fast forward a few months. January 1st, 2017. I wake up, throwing up. Ah, so much fun right? How could this get any better? Well, this amazing man had a plan, and my body decided that ruining his plan was a great idea. So instead, he came to my house, and finished out his plan. He got down on one knee, and proposed to my stomach bug infested self. It was there, I said yes [before having to throw up again- amazing proposal story right?!]

People might say that we’re too young. Barely being 22, why would I marry a man I met 5 months ago? Why would I say yes to spending the rest of my life with someone, according to the world, I barely know? 

15873467_10208756968263279_5061314715307351901_nHe stood by my side every single day. He stood by my hospital bed as I was having heart surgery. He listened to me when I told him about my anxiety. He laid on the couch with me during my depression. He
never made me feel like a burden. He made me feel loved. Always. He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. I never thought I’d meet someone that would be accepting of the struggles I face. I never thought I’d meet someone that I could have that fairy tale with. I believe when you know, you know. And I know. I know without a shadow of doubt, I want to marry this man. I want to be forever and always Brittany Nicole Welch. Society can say we’re crazy. But I was always taught to listen to my heart, and not the mouths of others. 


My heart today is telling me that this is the man that God created for me. “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”- Mark 10:9

 

0

Thy will be done.

It’s hard to think that God planned this. The pain. 

That he looked at me, and said, “I’m giving her this. I’m giving her all these strange heart conditions that doctors don’t understand, but is okay because she can handle it”. 

Some days I just want to scream at God. Some days I want to cry to God. Most days, I don’t know how to handle it.  I don’t know whether to be mad or sad. 

I have a love/hate relationship with this time of the year. December will mark 3 years since my first diagnosis. 

I remember sitting in the small room, thinking, “this is no big deal”. 

Little did I know, my life was never going to be the same. 

Many tests, four diagnosis, a surgery, and a permanent heart monitor would soon be coming my way. 

Never did I know that a 24 hour monitor that I thought was simply annoying, because “I can’t have anything wrong with my heart”, would lead to this. 

To this blog. To the life I have now. To the friends I’ve made. To the relationship I have with God. To everything my life is now. 

As much as I hate my health being like this, if I wasn’t diagnosed, my life would be so different. And somedays I wish it was different, because this pain is so much. It’s definitely taking it’s toll on me. But I’m done fighting it. 

I’m done fighting. I’m having a second procedure in a week, and that’s my last treatment. I’m done with medications. I’m done fighting to find a better me. Because, this is me. This is my life, and maybe it’s time I stop fighting it. Maybe it’s time I accept this. Accept that God gave me this, and it’s my duty to use it, in whatever way He wants me to. Like writing this blog, and spreading awareness for the Invisible Illness community. For shining some hope to those that are fighting this fight too. Maybe God’s plan is bigger than I ever knew. Maybe it’s time I accept this plan, as painful as it is. God does have a plan. I just need to stop, and listen to Him. 

I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m ready to use this for His glory. Show His story, through mine. After all, my life doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to Him. 

I’m done fighting. I’m ready to finally live. 

1

In the eye of the storm.

I sometimes don’t talk about it, so some people think that I’m okay, or that I’m better. To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever know what better feels like. And that scares me. But, at the same time, I am getting used to feeling broken. To feeling like I’m stuck in this hole, and I’ll never get out of it.

People have questions. They’re curious. 

But, explaining it is hard.
Doctors can barely explain, so how can I?
It’s like living in a cloud. Living in pain. 

The other day, for the first time ever, I started blacking out, and had somewhat of a convulsion in the middle. I pushed it to the side, like that was normal- but it’s not. 

And that terrifies me. People either act like I’m perfectly fine, or I’m dying. There’s no in-between to others. I’m in the middle somewhere. I’m not fine, but I’m also not dying. But Dysautonomia, and a heart condition did take away my life.  

1003047_10200493308556951_38876206_n
August 2013 // A month before I started experiencing symptoms.

All I want is to go back. Go back to a time when I didn’t know what constant pain felt like. I didn’t know what a life spinning out of control was like. I didn’t know what Dysautonomia, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, Neurocardiogenic Syncope, Inappropriate Sinus Tachycardia, Atrial Tachycardia, or Supraventricular Tachycardia was. 

Now, I know it all too well. 

All I want is one day. One day where I don’t black out. One day where I’m not dizzy. One day where I am me again. The girl that was oblivious to what her life would be like just a short time later. The girl that had huge dreams, and now all I dream of is one day to feel better- whatever better is. 

To genuinely smile. To truly laugh. To breathe again. To be me. 

 

And I’m runnin’ out of faith
I see the future I picture slowly fade away
And when the tears of pain and heartache
Are pouring down my face
I find my peace in Jesus’ name
In the eye of the storm
You remain in control.
Even though I am frustrated that my life isn’t going the way I dreamed, and my faith is slowly fading, I try my hardest to hold on. To hold on to the hope God provides, that one day, even though this storm is heavy, and killing my spirit, that I’ll find safety upon the shore. 
One day, a cure will be found. And I wait for that day, with God by my side. 
0

Even if.

Many days I ask myself what I will do if this never goes away. What will happen if this is the plan God has for my life? Just one diagnosis after another, without relief. 

Some days I think about my life, and wonder how it could get worse. How much more could I handle? 

I hate answering the phone when the nurse calls, but at the same time, I know what to expect. 

Yesterday I had another phone call. 

Another diagnosis. 

Another thing to add to my list. 

Another thing to make life even more difficult. 

Another thing that is another answer. 

I hate to say that I’m slowly getting used to this. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s a numb feeling. Slowly getting used to all these doctor appointments. Slowly getting used to increasing medications, and changing medications. 

Slowly getting used to my life being controlled my medicine.

Slowly getting used to my prayers never getting answered. Slowly getting used to the healing never coming. 

And that’s hard to admit. But, I am. I have to live with this daily, so I had to get used to the fact that I might not ever be healed. My heart might never beat normally. My heart might forever be broken. 

I’ve asked myself this: Will I be okay if I’m never better? 

Sometimes the answer is yes, and sometimes the answer is no. Some days I don’t know how to be happy living with this. 

But then some days I’m okay with being given this because it’s brought some positive things in my life, like a community, new friends, new experiences, and a new outlook on life. 

Right now I’m trying to remain positive, and even if I never find healing, believing in the good, and finding positivity through it all.