May 2018. I was sitting on my porch eating breakfast and painting my nails. I had graduation rehearsal later that day and my senior pro the following day. I had finished all my work for senior year. Summer was about to begin. I had no major, pressing worries in my life at that time. The only thing I was slightly worried about was if my pink nail polish was going to match the exact same shade as the pink flowers on my prom dress.
March 2020. It was the week before the spring break of my sophomore year of college. I was with my friend Malen and we were looking through the sale rack at Francesca's. I saw a beautiful baby blue dress that was on sale for only five dollars. I instantly thought of the spring formal and wedding that I would be attending in spring, and how I could wear the dress to those events. I bought the dress.
It's funny how sometimes you don't even realize you have certain expectations until those expectations get shattered. Following that morning on the porch I was hospitalized with extreme acid reflux that made it difficult to breath. They put me through so many tests in the hospital yet they discharged me having no answers. I was scared. Why did this happen? Is it going to happen again? My friends asked me if I would still go the prom. I was in shock. Prom? I couldn't breath and I was rushed to the hospital. How could you be worried about prom? Suddenly, my worry about the right shade of pink seemed trivial.
I bought the blue dress from Francesca's with the expectation that I was going to wear it at the end of the semester. I said quick goodbyes right before spring break, thinking that in a week I would see everyone again in a week. Then, school was cancelled for a month and remote learning was going to replace it. Then, school was cancelled for the rest of the semester. Then, I was packing up the dorm I just moved into. I spent an hour taking down all the art adorning my walls that I had put up only a few weeks ago-- getting so excited about making my new place my sanctuary. Then I was on a flight home to Washington, DC. This happened over the span of two days.
When something catastrophic happens, we tend to sensationalize time as "the time before the incident" and "the time after the incident". What we thought was normal gets flipped upside down. We oscillate between "this is fine, I can do this" and "I can't do this". We deny. "This virus isn't that bad. We are overreacting. It's the media's fault"."I will be ok. I have been overreacting. I don't really have a chronic illness. I can eat ______." We try to try the uncontrollable.
I have structured my daily activities around my chronic illness. I sit in the seat in class closest to the do, just in case I need to run out to deal with a flare up. I wake up early to pack a lunch for the retreat where "pizza will be provided". I never leave work until the last minute because I never know when my health will prevent me from getting my work done, so I take advantage of my healthy hours. I make a new normal. It is different. But I sill go to class, I still hang out with my friends, I still go to work, I still go to church. How I go about doing those things have changed.
What calms me is realizing, yes my perception normal has changed, but that doesn't mean life can still be just as vibrant and joyful as it has been. Recognize the change. Recognize how you feel. What can you do to help feel more grounded in reality? Read. Pray. Make your bed. Sit outside on your porch. You don't need to control the uncontrollable. The "time after the incident" is scary, weird, confusing, frustrating, but that doesn't have to make it any less of a life worth living than the "time before the incident." Make your new normal.
-Sabrina
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