when the universe knocks you down, listen to its message.

yesterday, the universe shook me and knocked my body to the ground.

over this past week, i am ashamed to say that i had been numbing myself to the subtle truths i authentically held dear in my heart, and had chosen to persevere farther and farther into the unending darkness of anorexia and the desolation of old sickness, until i could not deny the raw reality of my existence any longer.

and this is when my stumble into familiar darkness halted.

let me start from the beginning.

yesterday, at 10:09am, i wrote with shaking hands:

i wrote that i believed myself to be just as lost as i ever was, only presently more capable of feeling it in excruciating fullness.

i wrote that my life was void of anything worth fighting for, that i had run out of hope.

i wrote that i wished to never feed my body again, until i ended up in the hospital with a feeding tube forced down my throat, as i used to time and time again when my life became too unbearable.

i wrote that i missed being on the brink of death, weak in a hospital bed, my anorexia so near that the final end was always imminent if i was desperate enough for a way out of this mess of a life.

and i wrote over and over again: i wish that i had died. i wish that i had died when i was actually sick. i wish that i had died, died, died. seized and died. passed out and never woke up. died. i wish so much that i had died.

12:02pm, less than two hours later. standing in my backyard. the winter air is cold, cold, cold:

i do not remember falling. fainting. i am unconscious for over ten seconds, until i fade barely into consciousness as my mum holds my body in the dirt, screaming for her partner to carry me inside. as i am lifted up, i fade out once again. my head has missed the cement by inches, the dirt is so so rough beneath me. i fade in fleetingly, as i am carried up the stairs and into the house. once more, i am gone. i remember nothing. i lay on the living room floor now, weak and shaking. i do not know how long it has been, but six emergency medical technicians have joined my terrified mother in our house. my eyes flutter. i tell them all that i am okay, i ask where i am going. the emergency room, they tell me. my heart sinks. the emergency room. i am transferred onto a gurney, strapped into place. the doors of the ambulance open like a metallic mouth, ushering me in. a nasal cannula is secured to flow oxygen into my shaking, pale body, my arm is constricted with a rubber band to insert the iv. my chest is plastered with stickers, lines of all colors connecting from my skin surrounding my heart into the monitor. i watch my heartbeat skip and race, as if it is running the loneliest race there is.

upon arrival to the hospital, i am relocated into a room. the bag of iv fluids hangs above me, as the monitors’ alarms echo to no end. my oxygen level refuses to rise above eighty. i am so tired, i try to sleep.

four hours in, as i near stabilization, the doctor assigned to my case makes her entrance with a subtle and unacknowledged understanding. our interaction was brief, but she said all that she needed to say. it was the universe, i am hesitantly close to sure, that manifested the rest.

“i can let you go home today,” she spoke, purposefully. “but you know the path you are following, and you know where you are headed. this road will lead you right back here, and  i sense you know this too.”

and i did know this path. i knew it well.

i also knew that never before had i entered the emergency room and been given the gift of going home that same day, with no feeding tubes or unit transfers or inpatient admissions.

i knew that i was being given a new chance, a chance to change the direction of my life, a chance to do what i had never done before. to listen to the communications of the universe, and climb out of my darkness on my own.

i knew, as the night air washed over me as i stepped out of the sliding glass doors separating me from the hospital, that the sickening familiarity of this quick journey into darkness reaffirmed my knowing that a life and death of sterile walls and starvation was not all that i wanted to ever know.

i knew that i had to stay committed to this fight, to this life, no matter the pain nor ache, and no matter the obscurity and inconceivability of a future of freedom.

and that is what i have chosen to do, commit to this life.

5:14pm, as i dust myself off, for i am still covered in dirt from where i had fallen, before taking a seat in our car:

i chose to, in that moment, leave this path of self-deprecation and invisibilization behind. i did not know where my life would take me, but i could not deny that i knew the next right step.

we drove in the rain to the vietnamese pho restaurant that has always been the favorite of mine and my mums, and we order steaming bowls of noodle soup. tofu, vegetables, vermicelli, and hot broth. i breathe in this soup, this life, and exhale my fear.

i was shown, by something larger than myself, in the moment i so so much needed it, that i am capable and deserving of a life of luminosity.

i was shown, by stepping back into the shadows of who i used to be, just how much i no longer wholeheartedly want this life to end.

i am so grateful to have been capable of listening when i so much needed to, capable of learning when i was guided to, and capable of living when i was challenged to.

so here’s to life, and here’s to the freedom that the universe knows we are all worthy of.

i am grateful to have had the strength to pick myself back up.

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32 thoughts on “when the universe knocks you down, listen to its message.

  1. You showed the strength you have within you and by sharing this you are passing the message to hold on tight to all those who are lost and broken. I loved your spirit. It needs a great amount of strength to come out of a phase where you don’t feel like continuing with your life and you are a strong person. Thank you ❤️

    Liked by 2 people

  2. This post made my breath catch. I will send up prayers for you to have strength and courage at all times. The world not only needs people like you … it needs YOU. Be resilient and be fierce in your pursuit of health ❤

    Liked by 2 people

  3. There are seriously no words to describe this post. Perfectly worded, structured, and written. You have a talent. One that I only wish to be half as good as what I just read by you. Keep fighting back and keep challenging yourself to live. One day, it won’t be a challenge.. it will just be life. Your life. By the way, I love pho! I get the tofu and vegetables one as well! twins!!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. This is so beautifully and poignantly written. Just from this post and your comments to others I can see that you have a lovely soul and heart. I’m glad you’ve chosen to keep fighting, to listen to the Universe. I think the Universe knows you’ve got important things left to say.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. This is deeply and utterly moving! The raw journey and the moments that have spoken to you leaving a new sense of resilience is inspiring. We all have those times we are on our last emotional, mental and physical thread- and then the magnificent happens. The final acceptance to change for the better. I wholeheartedly hope the best in your personal journey! This was a well written raw post, thank you for being able to open up and share.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Oh – my – w – wow. This struck a chord with me. While I was never hospitalised for my anorexia (even though I should have been involuntarily) and even though I never even fainted (exercise kept me awake I suppose), I have had these thoughts so often, especially lately. So often I think, I don’t want to recover, I want to relapse, I need to be thin again… You get the picture (sorry if triggering xo)

    Just thanks. Thanks for writing and sharing and yeah. Wow and thanks and yep, I’m just going to sit back in awe and re-read what the universe said to you, and take that in a little better. Wow

    Liked by 2 people

    1. holy shit i feel like we need to meet – twenty minutes later hahaha! i honestly felt immediately connected to you! i’m going to keep following your journey (and fuck capitals, amen)

      Liked by 1 person

  7. Hi, Faye! Nice to meet you, girl. I’ve been reading your posts and they are so uplifting. Thank you, for following my blog and leaving such a beautiful comment. You are just lovely ❤ Soriah 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  8. I remember vividly crying on a park bench, wine in hand, telling a friend I desperately wanted someone to take care of me. Lost and alone, I drank away my worries- until I ended up in an ambulance for who knows how many times once again. This was my pattern for years- getting too drunk to know what was going on. Well, as I sat there on the hospital bed, still lost, I realized I wasn’t alone. I WAS taken care of- I got my wish, just not in the way I thought. That day was my last hospital incident, and I hope it’s the last- I just need to remember I am never alone, and to care for myself the same way the nurses did. XO. Although we go through different challenges, we are all one. Thank you for sharing your strength.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. Although we’ve not met…through your words..it’s hard not to feel as though I’ve known you. You really don’t know just how brave and resilient you are in this battle you’re facing, and you are straight knocking it out. Thought by thought. Word by word. Step by step. I do not know everything, but I do know you’re worth everything you desire to be and MORE. More, more, more, until you can barely carry it all in your hands. You are so so worthy, birdy. I want you to remember that, and every time you write let it be another chain you break yourself free from. Let it just fall off like a weight. Allow all that you are, to continue to rise. You truly are becoming, something greater than great. Love you and always waiting to hear from you 💕 Keep writing, I’m listening. Love you, love you, love you! 😘

    Liked by 2 people

  10. An interesting read Birdy. Did you always play with your life because it gave you control and made you feel alive? I used to play with my life until like you I ended up hospital. I died and ended up in intensive care. It was only when I realised what happened and remember feeling that last breathe that I didn’t want to die and it changed my life. It is like we have been given a second chance. I am very proud of you taking this first step and will be seeing how you go my friend x

    Liked by 2 people

    1. You sweetheart! Yes we do things to ourselves for different reasons. It is sad that in the past someone or something made ya feel this way. Especially when we know we can be such good people. X

      Liked by 1 person

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