Dear Friend,
Here is a reflection for you. I hope it resonates:
“At times, I may feel as if time has been stolen from me… slowly slipping away… This healing process makes me feel as if life continues without me. I think back to when my problems with my medication first began—the confusion, the frustration—and how restrictive my life has been since.
It’s difficult to accept that right now I have no control over what I am able to do or not do, and that while I can explore healing modalities and benefit from them, I don’t seem able to accelerate my healing. The more I focus on time lost, the heavier the sadness becomes. I think of how much I’ve missed out on in the lives of my loved ones: the gatherings, the milestones, the small, everyday moments that mean so much. This awareness stirs a deep frustration, sense of loss, and sorrow with me.
Yet, despite these feelings, I make peace with what is happening and acknowledge that I am doing my best. There is a deeper part of me that holds on to hope. Though the journey feels endless, I know healing is happening, even if I cannot always see or feel its progress.
Healing, like time, moves at its own pace. And although I may not be able to control how quickly it happens, I can to some degree control how I respond. I can remind myself that although this detour is taking what feels like too long a time, I will eventually heal and regain my life. The things I’ve missed will not be gone forever. There will be opportunities to reconnect, to rebuild, to laugh, love, and live a fully functional again. I will be able to create new memories with my loved ones and reclaim the connections with friends that have faded during this season.
When I change my perspective, even just a little, I can see something unexpected. The ‘stolen’ years—though extremely difficult—have also been a source of transformation. They have tested me in ways I never imagined, and yet, I’m still standing. I’ve grown stronger, more resilient, and more compassionate, both towards myself and others.
Life’s detours have a way of teaching us things we may not have learned otherwise, and this experience has prepared me for anything that life may throw my way. After all of this, nothing will ever faze me again.
In these moments of clarity, I realise that the story isn’t over. This chapter may be long and painful, but it’s not the whole story. When the day comes, and the clouds of withdrawal, PAWS/ABIND finally lift, I will be able to look back and see the gifts this healing experience has brought me. Perhaps the greatest gift of all is the deep understanding that time, while precious, is never truly lost. I cannot go back and change what has transpired, but I can take what I’ve learned and make my future everything I want it to be.
I will live wholesomely again. And when I do, I will appreciate every moment with a fullness I may not have known before. My life will not be defined by what I have missed or how much I have struggled, but by how I choose to fill what comes next. I am grateful, always.”
