It’s been a month. Where have I been for a month?
I had a horrible flare with my chronic migraines. I did my first Botox treatment. My port acted up. I almost passed out. I barely left the house most of the time. I wrote things and abandoned them halfway through. I got bogged down by school work. I got behind in school work. My mom had surgery. I got hit by Tropical Storm Irma.
I hosted a bridal shower. I was a bridesmaid. I started journaling again. I discovered awesome new music. I got excited for fall. I bought some cute dresses. I went to Target whenever I went to the doctor. I read a lot of books. I started doing yoga. I started moving my room to the guest room. I felt the Spirit strongly.
It’s been a month, but I feel like it could’ve been a year. I have often looked at the time when I was around 13 when I was diagnosed with POTS as being some strange divider in my life. It was before and after. But now I am learning that there are points in everyone’s life that act as those dividers, those pivotal moments. Maybe something life-changing happened. Maybe you just had a special, or awful, day. But it happens all the time and then everything is different.
As you maybe (probably) know, Taylor Swift has released some new music recently. The first single from her forthcoming album, “Look What You Made Me Do,” addresses the media’s criticism of her (as well as some problems with Kim and Kanye). Towards the end of the song, she has what seems to be a phone conversation that perfectly sums up the entire point of the song.
“I’m sorry. The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, ’cause she’s dead.”
I’m not saying we die all the time (that would be creepy/impossible). But our old selves do. Seasons and stages and phases of life do. And before we know it, the old us can’t come to the phone right now, or ever again.
So I am back now. But maybe I’m not the old Mary-Faith. No. I don’t think she’ll be able to come to the phone.