There was a period of time that stretched about 20 months long or so back roughly 12 or 13 years when the prospect of no longer being alive seemed a distinct possibility. There were a few days during that stretch when I wondered if I would be alive much longer, but there were a whole lot more days when I wasn’t so sure I even wanted to be. If not for having children to watch grow, help raise, and motivate me to keep ticking along, I’m not really sure there wouldn’t have come that one day when I would have stopped wondering and just given in to those feelings. And by no means is that an exaggeration or pity play. It’s just the reality of the situation.
All those years ago during that period of time, I got fairly sick, didn’t have a clue why, couldn’t relate in the least to what was happening, and didn’t approach what was happening and changing me with any realm of the proper knowledge or the appropriate mindset. Worse, the possible outlook as it was presented to me wasn’t one that was appealing in anyway at all. If not for a wife with scads of medical schooling, practical experience, invaluable knowledge, and endless patience and strength, it’s hard to imagine I would have made it through.
For one reason or another, I was reminded of this period about a week or so ago during a conversation I had with a lifelong, dear friend. I hadn’t really stopped to think about that period of time in many, many years with any real depth or true examination. I don’t like thinking about those days. Other than with my wife, I’ve never spent much time talking about them. For better or worse, in fact, my mentality has been to pretty much act as if nothing ever happened, avoid the subject, and with any luck never think about it again. And if not for a few medical conditions that stem from being sick back then that still linger on today, I mostly likely wouldn’t.
But a funny thing has happened from these daily writings in which I’ve focused myself to think in a positive manner: They seem to have taken a real toll and are making a profound difference. They seem to be changing my outlook on all types of matters, far more than I ever suspected they would. Combined, that conversation and the affect that writing this blog has made got me to thinking about the time when I was sick and the things I may have missed by burying them away. They got me to thinking about what I could glean from those days that is positive? What could I take away and learn from? What did I encounter that made me stronger, better, and wiser? What did I experience that left me more whole and complete? What transpired during that time that left me grateful and that may have repurposed my thinking? What can I re-examine about myself, and how can I use it to move forward?
And so, that’s what I intend to do over the next four days—write openly and honestly about that time in the hope of discovering the positivity of that time. To dig up the pieces I buried deep, deep in a hole with the thought of never seeing or thinking about again and taking a look around. Trust me, I'd just as soon go on writing about individual musings each day, but what's the point of trying to change and become something better if you're only going to avoid the tough topics that might not be comfortable but hold the most value and potential to grow from?
What I’m certain of right now is that what I’m most thankful for is being alive. What I feel most positive about is having another day to breath.
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