I had a little sore throat around 3 weeks ago. Within those three weeks it developed into a wheezing cough, a phlegmy cough, then into a cough that kept me up at night, giving me chills and having me stay away from spice —- one of the main things that brings joy to my life.
In those three weeks I also received some news that was anticipated but nonetheless stirred up a storm in me. In those three weeks I mourned, denied, ruminated, celebrated and fumed. I was going through a roller coaster of emotions, this is nothing new if you know me, but this was a different version. It was as If I took the contents of two years of emotions, concentrated it, rapidly froze it, broke it down into granules, and watered it down hot water and downed it, just like instant coffee. Enduring the whole complicated process, just to pour it down my throat in one go.
But at the same time, those three weeks also filled my cup. I immersed myself in things that brought me joy (other than spice), good food, good company, good memories. I dressed up to feel good about myself, I watched sad movies to validate myself, I made new playlists to match my new energy and I ate cake, lots of cake. I was in my element and in that state I celebrated another year of my existence.
3 weeks. How naive of me to think that I had survived the worst of it. A cycle of my period hasn’t even passed me by, my skin hasn’t even shed anew and the moon hasn’t even gone through all its phases. It was just the beginning.
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