The purpose of this trip wasn’t simply to spend time with friends. But also with myself.
To discover who I am, to find parts of who I was, and to be who I wish I had been, even if just for a brisk period.
It was a journey about finding strength within. Even though I have people surrounding me, I am alone in this journey, in this body, in my mind and soul. I needed to find the strength within to lift myself up, to push myself forward even when it’s hard, when it hurts. I needed to find purpose, I needed to find that voice in my head that tells me not to give up, to keep fighting, I needed to find some glimpse of independence when I feel myself fading.
Lately I have been inspired by the dark, or rather the dim light within. I feel myself grasping at what little light I can see, at what little hope I feel, at what little strength remains. So on this trip, on this journey, it was no surprise that I found myself spending most nights starring at the stars, the moon, the roaming clouds, at the dimmest of lights.
I planned a lot for this trip, I thought long and hard about, if I only had a few moments left, how would I want to spend them. Trying, fighting, living is what came to mind.
So when I noticed online that our villa had a path down to a beach. I knew I was going to hike down this path, I knew months before I ever did it. I knew I had to. And I did. It was a humbling, empowering, frustrating, prideful, angering, beautiful and awakening moment.
Of course I took my wheelchair with me, I couldn’t see any other option. But because the road was so rocky I couldn’t use it as it was intended and instead used it as a walker, the weight of it dragged me down. And on the climb back up I had to push it with all my might. I swore, I sweat for the first time in years, I struggled, I took my time, I carefully placed my right foot forward as I dragged my left and I found my balance with each step. I found my inner voice, I told myself that I wasn’t going to let MS beat me, I told my wheelchair “you’ve carried me on many occasions, now it’s my turn”. And most importantly I didn’t give up.
That descent, the climb back up was a metaphor for my struggle with MS, a metaphor for life. Don’t quit…
Even though my legs are sore and broken, even though my balance is off, my soul is at peace.
As for the rest of the voyage I woke to the sound of waves and wind. To the sound of sheep and cow bells. To a voice telling me a new day was beginning. That new opportunities lay ahead. I would open my eyes and be greeted by light.
This moment, this journey, completes me. I would not be who I am without it. I was guided there and it spoke to me. I can breathe again.
Caro 