If I’m being totally honest, as much as I love reading all types of beauty related blog posts my absolute favorites to read recently have been posts, in which people opened up completely about a certain aspect of their life. Those posts that when you read what they’ve written down you can feel for the blogger and in some ways relate to what they’ve gone through. I find it so brave of people to just throw themselves out there like that for everyone to see and for everyone to judge and we all know there are some very judgemental people out there.
I thought long and hard about whether to share this post on my blog or not, as it seems to have turned into more of a beauty blog but I came to the conclusion that I originally started blogging with the intention of having a place to first of all write and most importantly to write about whatever I, personally, want to write about, whether that relates to beauty, fashion or something rather personal. Well, today’s post is a rather personal one and I figured that there are many people out there struggling with some kind of situation that might be similar to mine, so sharing this might help someone out there. Who knows,right?
If you’ve read my little blog for a while you may remember that I was pretty ill in August last year. Actually pretty ill is quite the understatement. I was seriously ill and had to stay in ICU for a week. In fact, it was so serious it wasn’t sure whether I was ever going to leave that hospital alive again.
Now nearly 6 months later I’ve finished my third semester of my BA program, I seem to have passed most of my exams (I haven’t gotten all of my results back yet) and I’m one week into my fourth semester. Everything seems to have gone back to normal, at least judging from the outside. But I have to admit to myself that I’m still battling with the whole situation mentally. It was a very traumatic experience I still can’t seem to shake off and I just can’t seem to escape from it. I try to convince myself, and the people close to me, that I’m fine when I should admit to myself that I’m not completely fine. Things have gotten slightly better,yes, but I’m not the same person I used to be, though I doubt I ever will be again.
When I was first hospitalised the doctors told me that I was going to have to take medication for the rest of my life and that I would never be able to do any exhausting physical activities again. I must have had all the luck in the world because I got away without any permanent damage to my heart and I’ll probably get off my meds in about 3 weeks. Additionally I’m also allowed to gradually start doings sports again.
Things are definitely looking up for me but I still find myself worrying over everything. I used to be a very independent person and I used to be very social always hanging out with my friends all the time. Now I like to stay at home cuddled up in my bed because it makes me feel safer. I find myself turning down my friends a lot whenever they ask me to hang out and giving them some sort of lame excuse as to why I can’t make it. I don’t feel sad but I just feel empty all the time. Nothings seems to matter that much anymore and I can’t really remember the last moment I felt truly happy.
However one thing happened to me this week that is giving me some hope again for the first time in a while. Over my semester break I’ve been taking quite a few walks and tried to take out my bike again even though it was only for a few minutes. As you might know by now I’m currently living in the Netherlands and if there’s one prejudice that’s true about the Dutch, it’s that they practically live on their bikes. You’re pretty much screwed if you don’t own a bike over here. Ever since I started Uni here I would always ride my bike to campus every day no matter what the weather was like. For the last 4 months I wasn’t able to do that. I had to drive to campus and I hated it. I hated it so much because it made me feel so incredibly weak. Yesterday the sun was shining , I wasn’t in a rush for once and I don’t know what came over me but I decided to just go for it and cycle to class.
It took me about 45 mins to get there. It used to take me 15. When I finally reached my destination I was totally out of breath, I was shaking and I felt like I was going to pass out. I’m not gonna lie I felt incredibly frustrated with myself. I’m 19, turning 20 in 2 months, and I seem to have the fitness level of a 90 year old. But then I reminded myself of the fact that nearly 6 months ago I wasn’t even allowed to stand up. I didn’t even know if I was ever going to stand up again and walk out of that hospital and now here I am healthy and alive. I’m breathing and my heart is still beating. And for the first time in a very very long time I felt somewhat happy again.
It may sound like the silliest little thing, but to me it means so much. Yes, it’s little progress and I seem to still have quite the long way ahead of me getting my mind and body healthy and fit again but at least I’m on the road to recovery and I’m getting somewhere. I also try to remind myself that I am very lucky. Many people out there fight for their lives every day and not all of them are as lucky and win their battles. I was very lucky and I should be celebrating that I’m healthy and maybe one day in the future I can. At least I have the hope I for that I have some will power left that will hopefully get me there.
I hope this post isn’t too much of a downer but I just felt like writing all of this down because writing seems to really help me with coping and maybe someone reading this has experienced something similar or can relate to this in some way because I’m sure I’m not alone.
This is a very lengthy and personal post so if you have read it all the way through then thank you!