Ain’t in Kansas Any More

I walked into my apartment, and it looked like its contents had been tossed about by a pesky poltergeist.  It’s the dining island’s fault, 100%.  It takes over every time I set something down when I forget the saying, “don’t just put it down, put it away”.  My apartment is small so if items get conglomerated, they band together making it seem impossible it can be un-hoarded.  Well, hoarded is an exaggeration, but it could be spic and span, a little at a time.

Then this popped into my head – my journey has been, and always will be, a little at a time.  Be it whittling down a mess to a shiny countertop, organizing my files, listening to my body, and most importantly, recognizing the accomplishments I make.

However, when I was introduced to disability I wanted a pain free steady body back, right then and there.  I hated seeing myself as a countertop piled to the ceiling with stuff I didn’t want.  Although invisible, my anger, fear, sadness, and absolute despair, were part of the pile reaching to the top of a mountain of constant reminders that I ain’t in Kansas anymore. 

I had days of clarity when clearing the way to a poltergeist free apartment was accomplished.  Then a memory of what I once had piled it back up again.  The pile grew with thoughts wanting all of it to go away.  Thoughts that are the arch nemesis of silence.

My thoughts often led me down a one way road I didn’t want to walk, well more like wobble.  I had no idea where it was taking me, only that I didn’t want to go there.  I was terrified I’d never find my way back.  Yet even though it was scary, the journey had to be taken, I had to see that there were places I could still go and still love, a little at a time. 

Along the way I learned to celebrate my accomplishments.  I have been tempted to look back, but there’s no need.  It doesn’t matter anymore because along the road I let it go, a little at a time.