I lay wide awake in bed this morning thinking. It was one of those moments where I realized I have ruined my life in a way, and there is no way to fix it. My ruined life is terminal.
They say it's a piece of you that is yours only, until you make the decision to give it away. But once it's gone, where does it go? I don't believe in it belonging to the person you gave it to. Because most often, in today's day and age, that person doesn't mean anything to anybody. They just happen to be the one person that is present at the moment you give it away. But they don't keep it, no. But who does?
My epiphany began last week with my beautifully insightful patient at Fairview. She made me realize I ruined my life. Yea, it is awful news. And it would be easier to not have known. Ignorance is bliss. But I'm thankful she showed me. Because maybe, just maybe. Now that I know that my life would be less ruined if I found it again, I can begin to look for it.
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