Even If
In the past few months, I’ve had to adjust and readjust my plans to stay abreast the seemingly never-ending waves of change. I’ve been treading water, ever aware of the fragility of my health, my plans, my relationships, and everything in between. I’ve been afraid that if I let something slip, that if I went under a wave, I may never resurface. It’s a hackneyed metaphor, I know, but it’s sadly accurate of how I’ve often felt this past semester: drowning. After my fall semester of intensive antibiotics, yoga, and prayer, I felt prepared enough to re-enter Vanderbilt and hopefully even graduate on time. I planned to continue improving while living at school, take an internship for credit over the summer, and pretend like Lyme was nothing more than a season of rest and learning. I often do this thing where I create a storyline for my life as it’s forming, as if I was the author and could manipulate my life to fall into the lines that I’ve written. You’d think I’d have learned by now. A