the last night before i left school via ambulance thinking and hoping i’d never come back. it’s hard to describe what a whirlwind it was in and out of hospital rooms and monitors keeping me awake through all hours of the night. doctors shouting my name to keep me awake and alive. heart monitors working overtime to fight off the lingering abyss i was ready to fall into. nurses coming to take my blood and a steady pump of IV fluid through my arms. my mom curled up right beside my bed, begging God for answers. soft words from my Dad as he swiftly traveled back and forth between our home and my hospital bed. aides taking my breakfast order and helping me to the bathroom where i could barely walk to myself.
fast forward.
the last night before leaving to go to school for my sophomore year i can’t sleep. i’m nervous and exhausted from the work i’ve done for myself and how it will play out. i’m thinking about the atmosphere i once identified with, now only a long lost friend i will pass by on the weekends. i can’t sleep because my heart is working double time to keep me stable from my mind. my room is quiet with the distant hum of the TV playing upstairs. a hot shower i take that i will never take for granted, knowing a few months prior i was being bathed by warm wipes and a mom with courage. the last night i don’t have the college pressures mounting against me. the last night before i have a chance to change the narrative of who and what i am. the last night i will hold onto shame for all that i’ve put those around me through.
as i travel back to my home away from home, i think about the first day i get to define who God has guided me to be, and how much braver i am for stepping into an environment that could’ve been my last night— but now for my first night i get to experience what it’s like being alive.
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