I thought I had chosen the nonviolent path.
O how I have longed to heal naturally! Peacefully.
Suddenly, as if a I had been struck by lightning in the middle of the open sea,
I awoke with a brand new fire.
A foreign feeling.
Birthed from passion, a place of honesty, a calling.
It is time to fight!
I choose to live my life, to get back on track
To. Be. Well.
There is a war going on.
I am fighting for love.
I will be starting "chemotherapy" on Saturday. Sorry, that sounds so intense (maybe that's because it IS intense). In other words, I am waging a war against the unhealthy cells of my body. I do not have cancer. The dose will be much less than for someone who does. This is a treatment that has an honest potential to significantly reduce my painful, internally damaging, and debilitating symptoms. This disease may never go away regardless of whether I choose to control the symptoms or not. But you know what? I am twenty-five years old. Every day I wake up in excruciating pain. Every single step I take reminds me of the hold that this illness has on me. My thoughts are selfish, wanting to find solace from this storm. Consumed by the desperate, overwhelming desire to be free from this suffering. God is good. God is light. God is love. This disease, this suffering. Is evil. And. It. Does. Not. Win. I need help in every single moment. I need God's peace and grace to carry me every single second. God is big enough, powerful enough, willing enough to burn this to the ground.
There is a war going on.
