I am. I really am. I exist. There is a “me.” Wow! That reality is sinking in now. I was out walking my little dogs the other day, and I just stopped to soak in life. The crunchy snow under my boots, the sun starting to set in the Western sky, a twig on the ground. My little dog sticking her face in the snow, then looking at me with a twinkle in her eye and snow on her nose, and running down the lane for me to chase her.
It is life. Simple, ordinary life. But never really mine before my diagnosis. There was something inside me I had to hide from the world, and I never felt totally “here.” My shield of armor was in the world, and the real “me” was buried so deeply that I had forgotten where she was.
Now, I don’t need to hide. I have unlocked the door of the cage, and let my soul out to romp. The world is not frightening like I thought it was. It is glowing and vibrant and exciting.
Now that I’m not in hiding I can experience the world. And the “me” that lives in the world.