Two years ago I would silently ask that question... every day.
It used to be the question I screamed to the universe.
The only thing I so desperately wanted.
I thought that I had lost myself.
My mind and body simply felt like a shell.
And even if I showed my face, the world couldn't possibly see the real me because that's the impact of a vestibular condition (at least in my beginning). It tore me into pieces that were so scattered that rebuilding felt like an impossible task. My soul, everything that made up me, felt shattered and I had no clue how to fix me, or even what I was fixing for that matter.
When will I feel like me again? This time sobbing to the universe.
I was still in my body going through the motions, but I felt trapped because my mind was confused and my physical being so off kilter. Ever step felt like a stumble and my brain had detached itself, as if I was actually living outside my body.
Will I ever feel like me again?
Hopeless moments certainly existed.
Going through a chronic health thing shifted everything in my world.
In my case it was vestibular neuritis, which triggered vestibular migraines. Two things I simply consider to be labels for a package of awful symptoms: feeling off kilter, brain fog, neck tension/pain, derealization (disconnected), intense anxiety... to name a few. My mind was freaking out and my entire system wasn't processing the world quite right. Almost as if a wire had been cut and "all of me" was getting lost in the gap.
So universe, I'm listening. What should I do to get back to me?
I started by getting real and opening up. That meant getting really honest with myself. It meant feeling the raw emotions that come with a vestibular something. I cried and felt that release my body needed, and then I let the obnoxious anxiety just course through my system.
I started to move + meditate and acknowledged the uncomfortable. Every single day. Instead of pretending like it didn't exist, I let it exist. In doing so, I gave my mind + body the opportunity to heal.
The thing is I so badly wanted to pretend that something wasn't wrong with me. That if I just did everything normal in my life and showed up, that somehow this part of me would just go away.
That's not how it works.
It wasn't until I said a (figurative) hello to the ugly, that I began to stop drowning in it. I could give it all the power by pretending it wasn't taking me down, or I could face it standing tall. I see you and I know you're part of me, but you are not all of me.
And through making that shift, guess what?
I found me. But honestly, it turns out that I was here all along.
Just because I was in the midst of a difficult all-consuming condition didn't mean that I no longer existed.
Feeling lost is not the same as being gone.
Acknowledging that I live with vestibular condition is not the same as accepting it.
I can be me and I can fight back- with a vestibular something.
I am me.