I haven’t written anything here in so long. I haven’t felt the need or desire to explain myself, make myself available to scrutiny, to expose myself so that others may weigh in, tell me what to do or how to be. It’s not that I don’t like or appreciate the advice, help and support, it’s just that when you’re already full of emotions from the highs and lows of a tumultuous summer, there’s no room for more. There’s no room for praise, pity, advice, hope, fear, love, hate. Those things have already taken you over and they fight one another on the canvas of your mind and body and you? You freeze. Stuck in the quicksand of expectations of yourself and others. Assumptions of life and health and the constant question whether you can shirk those expectations and still survive. And if you survive can you thrive?

I’m stuck in the support, the prayers, the fear, the expectations, the unsolicited advice. There’s no appropriate response to everyone hoping for a miracle for you. Sometimes I wonder how I became someone others found either worthy of or in need of miracles. It’s a great honor but a lot of pressure and I can’t possible be that bad off, can I? Surely our miracles are better spent, I think to myself, I’ll survive anyway, no? I guess it can’t hurt. It’s just I’m so full of it all, it’s spilling over and so outside of my reach and my depth.

I’m full of love and joy from a summer of volunteer work. Meeting people where they stand and helping them take a tiny step in the direction of their unknown dreams. It’s fulfilling, it’s magical, it’s helpful. I’m full of gratitude from a summer of selfies on the beach, NYC explorations, shopping with Mom, and days at the park feeding the ducks. I’m full of fear from doctors arguing their points and ideas, treatment plans and options. Plans and options I only found out I knew from a late night voicemail from a doctor who forgot that patients need not just medicine but love and care. I’m full of vitriol from a spring and summer of failed desires and unchecked tempers. I’m full of hope and faith in love. I’m full of shock at my current state of being and my inability to put the pieces together in the way prying eyes think I should. I’m brimming with confusion about which direction to take, which path to follow, where I belong. Truth be told, no path set out for me seems adequate, I must face the fear of creating my own path. I’m full of doubt about the twists and turns of my personal life, it all seems bigger than me and though Oprah tells us not to shrink back from life, I find myself hiding from all I need to face. And this all plays out in and on my body. Through performances of ideal emotions and moments of truth and break downs. It all plays out in my work as I throw my passion and heart into my phd. It plays out at my workouts as I fight my body and what it wants to become and force it to keep working for me. “I am not my body,” I quietly whisper to myself, “I am not this vessel or what happens to it. I am the soul that fights for recognition from within.” In those whispers I see that I can only take this physical body so far (today for example a headache took me from a workout) but I can take my soul anywhere. I’m suddenly empowered by that feeling.

So I went dark for a while, maybe coming back here means I’m ready to embrace my light. Maybe not though. I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out. I guess it’s time for me to embrace all the beautiful support, hope, love, and maybe even the miracles.

Peace and love,

Samira