Seeing

The things that have happened. They peeled away the layers. There is a film that falls over the reality of life. It is put there by the experiences that numb us that make us callous that teach us to behave a certain way. When I gasped for life, fought to feel the beat of my heart, take the breath that would inflate my lung one more time I knew that the film caused the real gift and brightness of life to dim, to fade. It makes my interactions fractured, the air tainted. I cannot hear what it said, see what is happening, touch the truth that is the ground beneath my feet and the things that surround me. To see the world without the film is to feel things so acutely. I dance with abandon, I sing with my throat wide open and I feel every thread of the soft cotton sheets around my toes. With the heightened joy comes the ability to be cut through to the marrow by the reality that hits me like a blow to the freshly opened navel. The homeless man with his flawless bones, his organs aching for free air, clean blood and a chance. I watch him eat garbage, inject his veins with poison and look at me with pity for his fate. Does he really think he is fighting for his life? I want him to know what it really feels like to want to live. I want to say something so that he will know the will to live. If he could feel that why would he self-induce what I was forced to endure?

For the first several months post-surgery I could not walk by someone who was risking their life in any way without feeling a bodily sensation of nausea and the sensation that I was going to collapse. The sorrow I felt for their unwillingness to live was unbearable when it had been so hard for me to fight the battle. Now I have forced myself to desensitize. I stared at people smoking and tried to remember what it was like to understand it. I watched the Olympics as people raced down mountains and break-neck speed. This time I could tolerate it. I am slowly replacing the film. I have realized that some of it is necessary for tolerance and resilience of a different kind. I haven’t lost my gratitude for the shine of the moon and the turn of each season and I still dance with the abandon of a child but I am learning to wear the film like a cloak when I need it. The only unmoving law is I will not allow my son to wear skulls on his clothes. Why would you invoke death when life is such a real and present gift? He doesn’t like them anyway. I believe we’re kindred spirits on that one.

Along with this feeling of newness is the knowing that there is a new soul inhabiting me. It is not something I have tried to notice or believed ahead of time. It is just something that is. There are parts of me that were never there. I itch when I get out of the shower. I like to buy shoes and clothes. I spend a lot of time getting ready in the morning. I like dogs. I have a temper. I won’t be messed with and if you cross me I’ll let you know about it.

There are things that haven’t changed. I love going on adventures and I love my friends and family and I will do anything for someone I love. I forgive everyone and the Tater Tot is the shining beacon that guides everything I do in my life.

I haven’t finished getting acquainted to all the parts of me but I recognize the new parts as my dear friend Meghan. We were always the same yet opposite so it is funny to have her habits (some of them that used to drive me crazy when we were roommates!) coming out in me now. I’m so grateful that I received an organ and now that I know the profound effect that it has had on me and my body and spirit I am even more grateful that is from someone who I admire so very much. I could not have been more blessed.

Much love,
Michelle