It is suggested that bloggers plan content in advance – I do not! My process serves as an emotional release so I just put pen to paper (i.e. fingertips to a keyboard) and by month end I have at least 20 roughly written text based on one thing or another that I felt, read or heard during the month. When I decided to use this particular musing as my March 31st post it was with a calm resolve – I had managed to inspire myself with the way I related the project* to my journey with Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS) + Neurogenic Heterotopic Ossification (NHO) and I was chin deep in my conviction that I am not giving up on my dream to have hip surgery.
*Project semicolon was started in 2013 to support persons who struggle with but overcome self-injury, addiction, thoughts of suicide and depression. The semicolon was chosen because in literature it is used when a writer chooses not to end a sentence. Likewise, when persons (writers) choose not to end their lives (sentences), the semicolon tattoo/symbol is an outward sign of the strength exhibited to make that choice.
Familiar with the struggles of depression and anxiety I can get behind the movement. GBS was my semicolon – the pause between the two main clauses of my life and the point at which I used inner strength I did not know I possessed to make a choice to rise above my depression and physical pain to continue living as best I could. A choice that while first made in 2016, I still have to consciously make daily.
I was editing a paragraph intending to employ jest as a means of convincing you (read: us) that I prefer to use my physical scars as my signs of strength – as I (read: we) blatantly ignore the fact that I have declared “I am getting a tattoo on my birthday” every year for the last 20 years and I still do not have one simply because I am scared – when I received a call that started with “Dawn, are you sitting down?” The paragraph, the banter and my original ending were instantly altered…
Death is as permanent as a tattoo and I lost a very dear friend to it today… it is the kind of loss that makes taking a deep breath extremely difficult. He was a ‘point of light’ for me and I cannot imagine navigating the darkness without his confident and reassuring presence. Exactly 3 years, 1 month and 20 days after my GBS diagnosis I am in another sudden and devastating tailspin that I cannot immediately process and even though somewhere in the recesses of my mind I consider it significant that I was actively thinking/writing about choosing to overcome depression when I got that call; this experience will without a doubt be another semicolon in my life.
March 31st, 2019: 1,151 days with GBS & NHO and I am back at the beginning (https://www.dawndrayton-gbs.com/hello-world/) but with an addendum….
