She always marveled at the way I could watch Grey's Anatomy when incredibly ill and not flinch at the surgeries. Some surgeries, maybe, but not most of them. One day, with a heating pad on my pelvis and a blanket up to my chin, I looked up at her and said, "I bet I could have been a surgeon. I kind of like things like that," to which she replied, "I have no doubt you could have been, you could have been anything." She quickly added that I'm a good therapist, and I love being one, and she loves the kind of therapist I am, but it was a moment, a small moment where we shared that knowing, that unbelievably sorrowful knowing that I could have been anything, I could have been something different, or something not so different at all, but it could have been anything. And my life, most of my life and all of my 20's was made up of pain and fighting to just stay alive. I know she loves me and who I am, but it was eye opening to see that other people think this..other people see me and know I could have done so many other things.
Sometimes it's enough, this life, especially on days when I can make it to work or even just run an errand. Sometimes it's enough to dream big dreams, to picture them so intensely they almost feel real. Laying in bed with pain will never be enough, but the possibility of a future is, especially when my dreams feel the way they feel. I want to do so many things, and help so many people, so much so that sometimes my heart aches at the sheer depth of it, at the amount of things that need to be done and the amount of people that need to be saved.
And not always, but on a day like today, I am reminded that I could have been more, and the emptiness it brings can swallow me whole, into the depths of it's cold, heavy water, into the darkness of its murkiness, into the echo of nothingness.
But I will get up again. I will dream again. Because I am not nothing. And I can be anything.