Details about My Inner Sky: On Embracing Day, Night, and All the Times in Between
My Inner Sky by Mari Andrew – The transition time that followed was actually much lonelier. When I got out of the hospital, I could walk, but it was unpleasant—I felt like I had a rubber band tied around my legs so each step was a chore. I could use my arms, but my hands were so weak I needed help with daily tasks like opening a can to make lunch. And I could socialize, but I found it really hard to stay present when my friends would tell me about their relationship woes or work struggles. People kept asking me when I’d get better, but I had no idea what that would look like, or even if it was possible for me.
Trying to keep up with my self-induced pressure to be positive was exhausting, so I made some decisions to be true to my own experience. I stopped using the phrase “I feel like I should” and instead tried to show up for the emotions I was feeling in that moment. I also went into my own burrow (i.e., my bedroom) for a while and began creating art and writing about what was really going on with me: my fears that I’d never get better, my frustrations with my new physical changes, and the way that depression felt like a flame in my heart that I couldn’t put out. My honesty was met with community: people told me that they felt the same way, and that I wasn’t alone.