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Control

I’ve always known that there must be a larger power out there controlling what is meant to be in my life. There has been recently even less doubt of this fact.

The world is filled with so much; so much inescapable beauty and so much harrowing discomfort. Why would I be narrow-minded enough to believe that I had sole control over what is meant to happen to me? At least this question is what brings me solace.

As I sit here wide awake in the middle of the night, I could feel guilty and try to understand why I put myself here, in writhing pain. The kind of pain that you feel pulsating down from your spine through your forearms. Losing all control over your body and feeling a massive wave of flushed cheeked and palms. The kind of pain where your entire existence is questioned because you know you can’t control it. You doubt that you can handle the waves of this and they are anxiety-provokingly unpredictable when they will come. Well, I know I can’t control this right now. There must be a bigger reason as to why I am here. Now. In this moment.

It is not to beat myself up for pushing myself to this extreme of health. It is not to experience this pain without some purpose in the end.

I will hope to return back to sleep soon. The physical pulsating pain has passed and there is a larger power controlling that. The best I can do is breathe. I can breathe through this tough time in life, because I know I am not in control.

I rarely say the word God, because I’ve fought the existence of an all mighty being, because.. Why could one inflict an illness on such an individual basis that takes advantage of your physical self? And further yet, Why would anyone deserve to experience heartbreak, tragic loss or near-death experiences?

All I can say for certain is that without the faith that there is a godly power above me, I know I am too weak to believe that I am in complete control of this illness. I am destined to experience difficult moments such as these, to illustrate my strength. To illustrate my shear, raw perseverance in the face of major life stressors.

Crohn’s disease and colitis are the most invisible diseases of them all. With a seemingly healthy exterior, those around me question if these difficult moments actually exist. I can say, in the middle of the night, I would never wish this type of hidden illness upon another. The most private part of your life (arguably) is in the restroom. It is a room designed for peace. For rest. As that feeling of peaceful privacy is taken, I have to know that a larger power is with me in protection.

If this disease has illustrated nothing but this, I know there is this higher power protecting me, whispering strength into my steps and courage into my doubts. It controls these times. So, with this solace, I can breathe deeply and pray that there must be a place of peace and rest as comforting as my own restroom has once been.

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San Francisco sunrise, 04/09/2016
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