Over two weeks ago I came down with a virus. Not strange as I work with little snot-monsters all day who love to cough and sneeze on me at every moment. That, however, turned into a violent asthma-induced chest infection - seizing every muscle in my torso and making it impossible to breathe, sleep and eat. 16, 17, 18, 19 days of torture and pain later, I am left with a pulled muscle under my right arm, tugging both my back and my chest in great agony every time I move... breathe... or attempt to cough out the residual guck out of my lungs.

Infection or not I decided this week, as of Monday I would be a new human. I would take back my home and my body - starting with getting up early and working out. I would have time and space to make a healthy breakfast after a crack-of-dawn activity session, allowing me to roll into work at 7am feeling contented rather than sickly. I would show my body some much-needed love and attention, to help me get out of my funky spot. 

First, lets backtrack a bit: For the last two years, my husband and I have been hosting our apartment on Airbnb. We've been booked solid for the majority of that time, having a sea of people coming and going and sharing our space with us. While the fun of meeting so many cool people mixed with the much-needed boost to our bank account was helpful during the stressful finishing of my Masters Degree and Therapy designation (and looming $$$$$ tuition fees); having so many people, requiring so much care and attention, began to distract us from the enjoyment of our lives. Our house was no longer ours to enjoy, which spiralled outwards into not being able to freely cook, wake and sleep, listen to music, make art or even play with our pup in the same ways as before. We became laundry machines, neat freaks, and host-robots, sacrificing every moment of free time and energy to keep up with the demand. As of October 1st, we decided to shut it down, hoping to get back to the enjoyment of ourselves and our home.

Forward to now: In an attempt to reclaim myself after 4 years of sacrifice, I decided that Monday would be a new day. It would be the day. I wouldn't worry about all my other (failed) attempts at wellness, I would just focus on getting myself going after being dormant for so long. While going slowly and patiently, I would try to get the blood moving through my tender spots; I would focus on food mostly for the time being, while trying to ramp up my physical activity. Day by day, adding in new goals and pushing myself to do more, as I feel less and less crappy, and more and more motivated. Being as it's Thursday, I'm doing quite well. I've eaten several complete meals per day (which is much more than I was eating whilst sick) and I've even shed 7 pounds now that my body is flowing again. It makes me feel good, like there is possibility, like there is redemption, and like I might just be able to jump-start myself (by myself) wholly and fully this time. 

And while this week has made me feel accomplished and good about myself, last night I had a little breakdown, thinking about how long it's been since I felt like "myself". While I have been sacrificing so much for the last four years, it's really the last two that have been so daunting. Anyone who has been following along has witnessed my struggles, fight and relapses - almost incessantly. As someone who has always "figured it out" and "found a way through it" - the last two years took me completely off course, off-road, out somewhere I had never been before. In all honesty, I was taken somewhere I probably wouldn't have gone if given the choice. As I spoke to my husband, I reminisced about how driven I was; who I used to be; telling him that he never met "me", but rather another more strange, unknown and mentally unwell version of me. Moreover, thinking about all the things I had accomplished, the places I had been, the fitness and wellness I had once achieved - it seemed like the last two years were a prolonged recovery; a necessary bottoming out; burning out; complete crumbling of my persona and psyche - utterly and wholly disintegrating into the unknown. This is where I get tripped up, and lost. I feel like a butterfly that is fighting and fighting to shed the cocoon, thinking that I'm getting close and then realizing there is so much farther to go. Wanting to do right by myself and my community; wanting to feel okay and inspired - and only holding glimpses of positivity and wellness, ever fleeting, in the palm of my hand. I recounted how many times I thought I was getting better, only to fall again. Most of all, how stupid I felt when I thought I was okay, announced myself as so, only to fall back down into the depths once again, as if my declaration was a signal for the bottoming out.

Yet, as many great artists, activists and community members have mentioned time and again - healing is not linear. I think I finally understand, and that is what is making the difference. Having such a severe reaction in my chest has quite literally forced me to be patient and take time to rest - something my ego has been learning and trying to push through for two years without actually practicing on a soulful level. Having physical limitations is precious. While I've had countless surgeries, injuries, recoveries and relapses; I've also been stubborn and unwilling to fully pay attention to the lessons that have tried to teach me. And while I have learned so many lessons from the journey of the last four years, it's impossible to expect myself to be able to harness them all - yet another thing I need to be able to give myself patience and leeway for. 

So the lesson is: balance is difficult. Positivity is difficult - especially when you are fighting for your life day in, day out. Healing is not linear, and there are lessons that will try to teach you, but may only come when you are ready. Being ready is okay; not being ready means you might be ready one day. The journey takes us far from where we start, and sometimes it takes us to places we never dreamed, imagined possible, or wanted to go. What I am learning now, however, is how to (truly) be patient. Pain = patience. A delicate balance needing attention every day. An accomplishment for completing goals; and space for taking time off when needed. 

I am learning. Every day. I will keep learning (whether I like it or not) and the lessons will teach me (whether I like it or not). Without judgement or comparison I'm starting fresh. The rest of 2016 is mine, to build up as I like it, take time as I like it - however I may like it. I'll take this fresh start of -7 pounds as an incentive to keep going. To shed the extra weight of spirit, mind and body holding me down, keeping me tied to the past. Reclaiming balance; grateful for the sacrifice.

Here goes.