Jumpstart

Gratitude. As a society driven by the perpetual acquisition of things we’re forever wanting, rarely satisfied and regularly pining for our next fix. We move a million miles a minute, slaves to our desire to maintain a lifestyle- a repetitive loop to a song we can dissect down to each and every melodic line and yet we’re resistant to pause, stop or change. These actions are usually shoved down our throats, an unwanted epiphany that calls into question the trajectory of our life and more shockingly, its’ destination. 

My epiphany was born out of hellfire, in a time when I was derailed by sickness and emblazoned by routine. Playing the economic violin, I was inducted as a member of societies orchestra- lost in the sweet song of being- undermining life’s hourglass. As we maneuver lifes’ obstacle course, our perception is characterized by our exposure, experiences that are traded by currency and therefore restricted to the disenfranchised. And so we want what we know and know what we see, inherently limiting our vantage point and our appreciation for what we have. 

During my stay at 610 University Ave, I developed a loathing for styrofoam that imprinted my psyche, the inpatient water goblet that truly branded me a member of the building. Day by day, hour by hour, these cups would taunt me, a never-ending reminder of my circumstance that I wished I could banish. 

Showering seems like such a menial task, a pseudo-aquatic getaway in the comfort of our own homes. I was once guilty for assuming that this activity was accessible to all, until my energy depleted to the point where it became a gargantuan task. Panting for breathe, I frequently required my nasal prongs to transport oxygen to my inflamed lungs, praying that I would muster the athleticism to shampoo my head and wash my body. 

Perhaps closer to your current reality is the isolation you feel, away from friends and family, left to your own devices in the comfort of your home. I can relate, as can many club members who have fallen victorious to inpatient treatment. A 30 day check-in period with varying isolation necessitating yellow gowns, nitrile gloves and surgical masks to break the curtain barrier. Visitor restrictions blocked children under 12 from being able to visit, preventing my light from entering- a withdrawal from my daughter that I hope to never repeat. I get it…

I write this in the hopes of applying a different lens to your reality, a mental jumpstart to awaken your sense of fortune beyond the numbers in your bank account. This pandemic has aggravated a nerve that has left society uncomfortable- gnawing at our conveniences for the safety of our collective, leaving us to question what is truly important. 

I’m grateful to sip water from a glass, the cool crisp taste of water untainted, free of the chemical stench of styrofoam. I am grateful to shower, uninhibited by my body and the uncertainty of whether my legs will hold me. I’m grateful to wake up to my heart and soul, watching my daughter develop into the exquisite child and person she’s destined to become.

I’m grateful for what I have in the absence of all that I don’t and may never hold. The air in my lungs is really all that I need. 

Did the “engine” start?

Thank you,