Bunny's Burrow: Hopping into Life

Some days I notice the quiet things first. My voice that doesn't quite reach the end of a sentence anymore. My hand lingering a little longer on the banister. The distance across the room hasn't changed, but somehow the journey has. It's strange what the body can teach the heart when neither gets a vote. There comes a point where fighting every loss becomes its own kind of exhaustion. Not giving up. Just... laying down the argument with reality. Grief still visits me a lot. It sits beside me over a cup of tea without saying much. I stopped asking, "Why me?" and begin asking, "How shall I carry today?" Oddly enough, that question is lighter. Not because the burden weighs less but vecause acceptance doesn't remove pain. It simply stops asking pain to become something it never promised to be. One day I will just not wake up and that is okay as long as the pain stops. Blessings.

I think I’m making peace with the ending to my story... Not in some elegant, enlightened, woodland-creature way or shit like that. I still hate this disease. I hate what it takes. I hate how weird my body feels. I hate having to think about things that used to happen without asking me first. Frankly, my autonomic nervous system has become a terrible roommate if I do say so myself. But I’m not angry every second anymore. Mostly I’m just sad and weirdly, that feels softer. I know where this road goes. I’m not pretending otherwise. I don’t need a miracle speech or a brave face or somebody telling me to “keep fighting.” I am fighting, just differently now. By loving people properly. By laughing when I can. By drinking the good things. By noticing the light. By saying what I mean while I still get to say it. By enjoying outside. By talking to strangers. By finding new music. There is something almost peaceful about not arguing with the map anymore. I don’t like the destination. But I love t...