As I watch these athletes push the limits of what the human body can do, I can only think of how far here is from that. There aren’t many victories, those that happen are small. Getting out of the bed, and completely upright in the morning. Every ounce of me wanting to stay submerged beneath covers absorbed in the quiet hum of the air conditioning. My only wish is to stay in that spot, never open my eyes, and never come face to face with everything outside that room. Starting the day, and welcoming it just doesn’t happen. There is no welcome here. Only dread, and anxiety. I think somewhere in my mind I can get myself to believe if I just don’t get up, that all those fears will be gone. It is foolish and stupid, but it is how my brain works first thing in the morning. It is a battle, and a struggle each and every day. I long for a day when I can awaken with hope. When a day feels filled with promise. When a day feels like an attempt at victory. Not something to muddle thru, just trying to get to the end of it, so I can climb back under the covers and hide. It is really pitiful.

So, while I love watching what these athletes can do, I feel pitiful and useless. Here I am in the fight of my life and I prefer to hide under a comforter. I’ll never be great. I just hope I can be good enough to get by.


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