I'll See You Later, Okay?

Growing up, I was always active. I remember one afternoon; I tore through the house like a Tasmanian devil. I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. I knew I probably could’ve peed outside instead, but I’ve always been a girl with standards. I didn’t want to waste a single second of daylight though, so I rushed myself. I sat on top of that porcelain throne with my ass barely touching the seat, squeezed out my bladder and then spun that roll of toilet paper like it was the Wheel of Fortune. I was up and gone in less than a minute.

On my way out of the house, I saw my brother sitting in front of the tv in the living room. He had a bag of Doritos in his lap and he was eating them like someone was about to come take them from him. Cramming fistfuls of the chips into his mouth with his disgusting orange fingers. No breaks, no pauses. Stone Cold Steve Austin was yelling something on the screen. I shook my head. I looked at him and thought, “I never want to be like that.” He looked trapped. Like he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. I ran back out of the house to play with my cousins in the yard. 

I’ve been thinking back on a lot of moments like that lately. I keep trying to put the pieces together. I was active, I was healthy. I keep trying to pinpoint the moment everything changed. 

I’ve decided that it must’ve happened sometime in middle school. That’s when I stopped doing all the things I loved. I was absolutely petrified I’d do the wrong thing and so, I froze. Like one of the popsicles I used to eat on the front porch in the summer. The things I loved to do weren’t cool for a girl. I wanted to play soccer, but only the boys played. They didn’t want me on the field with them. I still remember the look on my crush Mikey’s face when it was me versus him in front of the whole gym. I’d just beaten two of the other boys and it was Mikey’s turn. I was so excited to show him how strong I was. His face fell when I pushed his hand into the mat after only a few seconds. That was all it took. He never looked at me again. I had to stop being a tomboy and I needed to start letting boys win at arm wrestling. That was my takeaway from that day. During that time, all of me unwound and I had started to rewrap myself. I was like a sweater that had come unknitted and had to be re-knit into something else. A prettier sweater. A sweater that was soft and made all the boys feel warm and safe. A sweater that other girls would envy. 

I have a lot of theories about how it all started and I’m sorry for getting off track. Anyway, the loss of myself was a lot to bear. Where was I? Ah, yes. I’m packing because tonight we leave for Oregon. I have everything in place. Tomorrow, right as the sun sets, I will take my last breath here on this Earth. I’ve been preparing by reading all kinds of books on the afterlife. I have so much hope that whatever plane I end up on will be better than this one. Of course, I have the other details sorted as well, the will and the funeral service etc. I have no children, thank God. Otherwise, I’d probably have to stay. I do, however, have the sweetest and most supportive partner I could’ve asked for. Leaving her will be one of the hardest things I ever have to do. But she’ll be holding my hand the whole way. 

She understands why I can’t stay here. Not like this. My entire life has become balancing vitamins, medications, and diet. I don’t go outside. I don’t run and I don’t play. I live in pain and fatigue every day of my life, no matter what I do. I have tried every single suggestion thrown my way, every time with the hope that this will be the one to cure me. Each day, each month, each year, chipping away at me more and more until now it feels like there’s nothing left. This has taken my body, yes, but the really hard part, the unexpected part, is how it’s also begun to take my mind. I don’t remember small details. My motor skills are getting worse. I can’t count on myself anymore. It feels like I don’t know anything. 

In school, I was proud of being smart. I won spelling bee championships, writing contests, science fairs. I was promising and I was constantly told that I had a lot of potential. I believed that I could’ve done anything I wanted to back then. Then, one morning when I was 22, I woke up with the feeling that I was getting the flu. My body ached and my mind felt dull. I was exhausted. 3 weeks later and I’d woken up every single day feeling the same. The flu never came, but that feeling never left. I tried to power through. I tried pure denial. I tried anger, bargaining, and lord knows I've been depressed. Now, I’m finally resigned to acceptance. I accept that my life has become a story now. Like everyone’s, it’s a story of regret, a story of love, loss, pain, and intense happiness. 

I feel lucky to have stood in awe of this world. I feel lucky to have been here to take it for granted at times. It’s always been hard for me to do things with absolute confidence. But this decision is something that I feel with complete certainty. I think of the relatives I might see when I reach the other side. Or the total, all-encompassing darkness that will cover me like a nice, warm, weighted blanket. 

Tears are streaming down my face as my dog Buddy walks into the room wagging his tail at me. I grab his sweet face and kiss his snout a million times. “Bye, Buddy. I love you so much. I’ll see you later, okay?” I promise him this without knowing how. 

My partner Jess comes in and grabs me by the hand. She wipes my face before grabbing my bag for me. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Yes” I choke out the word. “Yes, I am ready to go.”