“I said I could not see her eyes under her hat & she smiled mysteriously & said she liked it that way.” – Brian Andreas

I’m growing into myself.  I’ve said this before, but this time I really think that I am.  I’m happy with myself.  I’m happy with my morals and values and goals.  I don’t need anyone to make me feel like I’m worth anything.  I know that I’m worth, well, everything.  I think that goes for everyone else, too.  Not many people realize it.

I think that one of the most important things that anyone has said to me was that I was worth it.  We were talking about relationships and about how so many girls settle for the first guy to look their way because they so desperately want to be in a relationship.  It’s as though a lot of girls look at a relationship as a letter of acceptance; a guy likes a girl and she is finally complete because there is someone else who likes all of her little quirks and idiosyncrasies.  He thinks she’s worth is, so she that means that she is.  But, others always emphasized that it shouldn’t be that way.  I strongly agreed with that—I never thought that I needed to be in a relationship to be happy…but, in retrospect, I’m not sure how much I honestly believed my own words.  I intellectually knew that I shouldn’t gauge my happiness on whether or not someone enjoyed spending time with me, but I couldn’t help but to feel differently at times.  I mean, we do exist in our interactions.  Our relationships with others do matter.  So, it’s easy to get caught up in the idea of a significant other, especially since it’s so enforced by society and the media.  I sometimes found myself falling into a trap and thinking that I’m not that special because no one has noticed me.  Because I’m not in a relationship.  Because so many other people are in relationships and are so lucky to be in such a position.  But, it’s not like that.

We don’t need someone else to make us feel complete.  We don’t need someone else to make us feel better about whom we are.  And, we certainly don’t need someone else to know us better than ourselves.  I now know that.  I now recognize that my own happiness is in no way dependent on one other person.  I still believe that we exist in our interactions, but I don’t think that one sole person will or should help me to grow into myself.  That’s my job, and I don’t need someone else’s stamp of approval.  I need friends and family to guide me, to love me, to support me, but I don’t need to be in a relationship to get that love.  I know that it’s so easy to feel good about you and feel confident when there is someone there who is loving and affectionate.  The real test of character, however, is to believe in yourself when you’re on your own.  And, honestly, it is so liberating to realize this.  I never thought that I’d see this way, but I now do.  I’m finally at the stage where I know that I deserve the best.  And, if someone doesn’t treat me that way then that person is not worth it.  Everyone deserves that appreciation.  They really do—there is no reason to settle.

Thank you to everyone who has brought me to this point.

School is crazy right now.  Neverending.  Deadlines.  Work.  Push.  Pull.  Tug.  Sprint.  Harder.  Focus.  Jump.  Lift.  Write.  Think.  Be.

…how about sleep?  I’ve really been transforming into a person who cares more.  I care more about myself, about others.  At least, I feel as though I care more.  Hopefully, I come off that way too.  Hopefully.

Too busy right now to explain more.  I’ll holla atchya later.

I love it when I say things that don’t make sense.

I’ve been going in and out of funks lately, so disregard whatever I’ve been saying.  I say one thing and mean/feel another…constantly.  The only underlying reason that I can think of would have to be that I hate saying goodbye.  Or, even if I’m not saying goodbye, I hate the idea and the feeling that I’m going to have to part from people that I’ve really enjoy spending time with.  Leaving.  I hate the entire idea of leaving.  There.  It probably stems back to that whole transient stage that I went through–where I missed out on the last couple of weeks of senior year, where I took a medical leave after my very first semester of college, where I stayed at home during second semester, where I had an amazing and refreshing summer and then felt like it never happened.

Losing touch with people is inevitable, and we all share different purposes in each others’ lives.  But, I wish that it didn’t have to happen.  It doesn’t have to happen, really.  And who knows- it’s still early right now.  Maybe we won’t lose touch.

In two(ish) days, I’ll be going on a 5-day long silent retreat called the Spiritual Exercises.  It’s done through my school and it’s supposed to be a time of silence, reflection, and prayer.  It’s an opportunity to open yourself up to your spiritual and religious beliefs and really gain perspective on your life, where you have been, and where you’ll be going.  I really hope that I’ll be able to focus on a lot more than this past summer, though.  Summer was unbelievable, and I’ve definitely grown incredibly as a person.  I wouldn’t change a single thing from this summer.  It has been chock full of learning experiences.  But, there’s so much more to review and think about.  I’m more than my experiences from this summer and I hope that I can get through to that.

If everything happens for a reason, and we recognize and understand these reasons, what happens when we don’t want to accept any of it?  What happens when we can grasp it all, but just want to let it all go in hopes for a little bit more?  Kind of similar to a gamble, I guess.  People walk in and out of lives all of the time, and each person brings with them his or her own story that helps us learn about him or herself, about others, and about ourselves.  Well, I want to know what happens when we’ve reached the point where we can identify and process their purpose and their impact on our own person, but just don’t care and want more than that.  Clearly…I mean, I already stated that.  Why can’t shortlived relationships prosper and grow beyond these lessons?  It can’t be greedy to want more than just what’s meant to be, right?  It can’t be if it’s for the right reasons.  Not so you can benefit by strictly learning more about yourself and others, but rather because you genuinely care about the other person and genuinely enjoy their company.  Right?  Does that make sense?  Maybe not, on account of one learns about his or herself through relationships and interacting with others.  But, what if that’s not the incentive?

How is it that we can know exactly what is right for us, but feel so compelled to do just the opposite?  I’m not speaking in terms of temptations or morals, at least not in the way that you’d assume.  I’m thinking more of selflessness.  How is it that, as people who tend to hold our own wants, needs, and desires above all else, can find it perfectly acceptable to give up everything that appears to embody that which we know is right for us?

I think that a lot–not all, but a lot–of selfless acts are actually done for selfish reasons.  At least, speaking for myself.  In the past, I’ve felt that I’ve given a lot of myself for others just because I want them to be happy and because I care about them.  But, I’m slowly coming to understand that it’s completely different when you’re giving up something that you really want, that could really be good for you, because you know it’s better for someone else.   And, the thing about this that really strikes me and throws me for a loop, is that I don’t mind doing these things.  I don’t mind giving up something I really want for someone else.  I don’t view it as a loss.

Do you think this counts as giving up something that I want really want so that someone else can have it? Aye, there’s the rub: I just found something selfish to pull out of this.  But, it’s not.  I know that it’snot like that.  I’m just not sure that I’ve ever really felt this emotion so genuinely before.  Or, maybe I have but I haven’t recognized it as much.

…it’s a strange feeling.

Yesterday, I went to see the neurologist for the first time in something like 8 months?  No, more.  However long it actually was…it was a much needed return.  Not because symptoms are ablaze or anything, but because I’ve really missed the hospital/my doctors.  That sounds a little weird but, honestly, I kind of feel like they’ve been some of the constants that have been there for me when I needed it.  Truth- that’s their job.  But, they’ve seen me grow up  and deal with Myasthenia.  And, I’m so proud to return to them as the woman that I am today: I am at a school that I love.  I have formed friendships that are stronger than anything in the past.  I am still pushing myself.  I am swimming competitively.  I plan to run the marathon next spring.  I am past the point where I consider MG to be a problem.

When I was at my little check up, my doctor was raving about how I have conquered this and how I have made a miraculous turnout.  He attributes this to my character, but I’m not sure.  My mom tells me to not minimize everything that I’ve been through because it’s really been a struggle, but I’m not sure about that either.  Sure, everything was miserable at times…but isn’t that life?  Aren’t we all thrown curveballs?  Mine was just a different form than I ever expected.

Every time that I go to that hospital, I get flooded with emotion.  It was there that I felt my lowest and most impatient.  But, most importantly, it was there that I was forced to grow up.  Sometimes, I get so caught up in resuming life that I really forget everything that happened.  It’s as though it’s just another story that I hear second hand.  Did it actually happen?  Of course it did, but it doesn’t feel that way.  And, I get a little scared that I’m going to forget about it.  Kind of like forgetting your roots or where you came from.  It’s such an important part of my life that I want this experience to be a part of even my smallest decisions.  And, I don’t want to fall into the pattern of making decisions that I would have resented myself for making when I was the poster-child for MG.  I guess I’m just afraid of become insensitive.

It’s already May?  Really?  I actually didn’t realize this at all until a text message I sent came up as “May1st.”  And, even then, it took me a couple of minutes to realize that today is my (adopted) 2-year Myasthenia anniversary!  Oh happy day!  …Maybe?

I feel as though I was anticipating the 1-year a lot more than I was anticipating this splendid milestone (yes, two years is a milestone. Two years of dating is celebrated, isn’t it?).  But, last year was also quite a different situation.  I had nothing better to do than to think about how I had lived with MG for a year.  Plus, everything seemed to remind me of the woes of this minor immune issue.

Yikes.  I’m absolutely flabberghasted that it’s been two years.  I could have sworn that I was just in the hospital.  It’s been over 17 months since I start the CellCept (give or take a month).  Over a year since I had plasmapheresis. Over a year and a half since I had my thymectomy.  Just (barely) over two years since I started seeing double.  Now, where am I? I’m at a school that I love more than anything, surrounded by friends that I once was convinced I wouldn’t make, swimming, studying for finals, living the dream.  During the first week of August, I’m going to Honduras on a Medical Missions trip with 10 other kids from my school.  If this isn’t the dream, I don’t know what is.

I continue to learn so much as I become increasingly more comfortable in my own skin.  I’m learning how to listen and actually hear.  I love learning more about others.  Deep down, I’m really convinced that everyone is innately, inherently good.  I truly believe that.  And, I try to look for it more in others.  I wouldn’t say that I’m letting my guard down when it comes to meeting new people, but I’m less scared of getting hurt.  I’m not about to unearth my entire life story when I meet people…I mean, I’d just really rather not parade around my autoimmune/neuromuscular/whatever disease.  But, that doesn’t mean that I’m acting as immaturely about this as I did when I first tried to grapple with it.  Then, I wanted to hide it because I thought that it scathed me.  I was weak because of this, remember?  No, no.  Now, I don’t hide it…I just don’t let it define me.  I wear so many hats that I’m too busy to being a real person to let it define me.  I am a real person, not a Myasthenia patient.  I wouldn’t even say that anything that what I am living with is “miraculous.”  Because, last time I checked, I was living a normal life.  Finally.

There are several people that I met this year that I’m so thankful for.  Okay, so more than several.  Many people.  They’re all so different from each other.  I’d even go as far to say that they’re unique (I’m trying to be nice here. It’s taking a lot of effort.) — But, they are miraculous.  Each and every one of them just reaffirms my belief in the goodness of others.  Of course I say this kind of blindly and without thinking, but I have never felt as accepted and welcomed as I do at this moment.  You guys didn’t know me; many of you still don’t.  But, you’re so inviting.  So nonjudgmental.  So the antithesis of everything I feared in others.  Or, maybe I just hated, even feared, those qualities of myself and projected them in others.  Projection.  One of the nine defense mechanisms.  Thanks, Freud.

Most importantly, I really am more comfortable with telling people about my past.  I’m not proud or ashamed of it.  It is what it is.  And, I actually just had a really long discussion about the whole thing with two girls, not long ago.  At the time, I didn’t want the MG to be the center of attention, but I really appreciated what they had to say.  Sometimes, it’s really nice to hear others’ opinions…especially if they’re complimenting you (just kidding, but seriously).  Now, that’s not to say that I’ll suddenly bring it up out of the blue.  But, I’m not embarrassed to say that I had to transfer schools for medical reasons or that I had medical issues in the past.  Because who the heck cares, really?

Funny, because around the time that I got my surgery (or, maybe it was closer to last summer), one of my friends said something along the lines of: “Soon, it will come to the point where people will ask you about your scar and you’ll just tell them that you had surgery or that you had a gland removed.  It’s like [someone else] has a scar from an apendectomy and she used to be really embarrassed of it when she wore bathing suits and now she just shrugs it off.“  Right now, I’m looking a bit deeper into my superficial scar and see that everything she said applies to the scars Myasthenia has left.  I look at it all now and think: no one cares.  Granted, I think that the situation is different with a little flare-up of the symptoms, but not much.  Actually, I’d even put money on the idea that I would approach a flare-up now much differently than I have in the past.  Anyone feel like betting against me?  Could be a fun game! …

I should really go visit MGH when I get back from school.  I wonder if they’d remember me.  I wonder if my nurses are even still there.  They helped me more than I think anyone could have at that time.  And, they’re still with me.  I’m constantly thinking about how Danielle and Sandy and Kristen would talk to me and listen.  They really were my rocks.  Don’t get me wrong, my parents and friends were unbelievable support and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.  But, these people didn’t know me.  I don’t know, it still baffles me.  I was constantly cognizant of my smile; I was so self-conscious.  But, Sandy always said that it didn’t matter because she could see my personality before she even noticed my smile.  And, I’d like to think that she was right.  I owe them so much…I don’t think that I will ever forget them.

Thank you.  Every one of you reading this.  I couldn’t be happier with everything that you have done to help me along the way.  Now, it’s time to destroy my finals and end this school year with a bang!  Brief pause, but now back to being a student.

Oh, and watch it here.

That’s all.

If I played baseball and had to choose a walk out song, I’d want one that relays the messages: “don’t mess with me,” ” I’m the real deal,” and “you should be afraid of me.  At first, I thought I would choose the intro of “Marshawn Lynch” by Mista F.A.B., the Cataracs,  and the Jacka.  I like how it sounds forceful and gets right to the point.  But, it has a little too many profanities to actually be acceptable.

When you watch someone step up to the plate and hear their song, you look at that person’s personality: How does this person think of competition?  How do they want others to view them?   What music do they like?  What song do they think defines themselves?  It says a lot.

I’ve put a lot of thought into what I would use for my song.  I want it to be tough.  I want it to be intimidating.  I want to feel pumped up every time I hear it.  I want it to say “it’s go time.”

I’m still looking for that perfect song.