In society a girl is expected to make something of her life, if she fails, she’s often made to feel like she’s not enough.
Music is my escape, but once I learned how to create my own melodies, soon it just wasn’t enough.
Finally, I had enough.
I needed to explore the boundless world of creativity, I had to understand that to others you won’t always be enough.
I’m often overwhelmed by my racing ideas, even still I fear I don’t have enough.
Of my chosen path I was for so long uncertain, but I began to write down all that my lips had yearned to mutter, and now I can’t get enough.
Finally I am, enough.
~~~
I had the hardest time trying to come up with an idea of what to write about for this week’s post. Like usual, I came up with one idea in the middle of the night. I wrote down the word “enough” in the notes in my phone and went to sleep. My idea for the post was what you have now read. But, in the days leading up to today I was still so unsure of what I had written. Then, I came across these posts:
I knew then that what I had written was more than enough.
I have taken many trips to this place ever since I was a young girl. I rejoice in calling it my “second home”. Over the span of many years, I was able to familiarize myself with the space. Here you are accompanied by your neighbor’s murmurs, the cries of nameless voices circulating through the halls. I get a room all to myself with a beautiful view of the city lights. Most of everything in my room is dressed purely in ivory. The bed, the sheets, my pillow. The tile floor, the ceiling, and all four walls. I find comfort in the reclined bed, under the crisp, cool sheets. At this time I don’t sleep for long, knowing I’ll have another visitor soon.
When one of my visitors enters my room, they kindly greet me, and I graciously greet them back. I’m connected to multiple wires and monitors, all performing as they must in order heal me. So, they begin to repeat the same steps that they did just hours before, and that they will in another two. They observe the screen next to me, then ask me how I’m feeling. Sometimes I stubbornly pretend to be asleep, but they always graciously check on me before allowing me to get more rest. With one hand atop my warm forehead and the other pressed into my aching side, sleep does not come easy to me. For the moment, I remember why I’m here. Yet with the lulling sounds of water droplets nearby, I quickly succumb to sleep. ___________________________________________________
The next time I’m awoken, golden rays of sun beam through my window. Another one of my visitors stops by. This hospitable person never fails to bring me meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, even if my stomach can’t bear to eat them.
Shortly thereafter the same visitor from the night before returns. This time they present to me a chart that shows a range of faces. They tell me to choose which one best describes how I’m feeling. Although I know they simply want to help me, I’m always shy in my answer. Even with hot sweats and chills alternating throughout my body, I always wear the best smile I can, as I give them my fabricated answer.
Mindlessly focusing on the tube connected to my forearm, I recall just how it was placed there the night before. It’s never an easy experience, but I have to remember that it’s to help me. Catching my attention, they inform me that I can expect another night’s stay, before leaving me alone once again. ___________________________________________________
I have other visitors occasionally, all my loved ones. They always look down at me with sympathetic looks, as if I’m fragile, ready to break at any given moment. They tell me to “get well soon” . From what my face may tell them, I am weak. But how I continue to see it, it’s no battle I haven’t fought and won before. This feeling is temporary. I just need fixing, and soon I will be well again. ___________________________________________________
Most fear this place, but not I. I have no objection in going to a heavenly place of healing. Days have gone by and now I’m replenished. They say I may return home. After thanking them, I insist that it won’t be long until I’ll be back for another visit. Soon I am taking one last glance of the place as we drive off, further out of the city, further away from my dear second home. ___________________________________________________
I never wanted to admit that I ever felt any form of pain in those rooms. Truthfully, I was seemingly never without physical pain from these unrelenting sicknesses. Fortunately, I could always count on this spot as my haven. That place was the only scene at which I could seek full recovery. In recent years, I haven’t needed to pay them a visit. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but until next time, I remember all my past trips to that beloved building that I still call my second home, the hospital downtown. ~~~
》 Faith It ‘til You Make It 《 