They wanted me to wear a heart monitor for 30 days.
I told them, “No.”
I’m not the type of girl who needs a heart monitor for 30 days.
I am healthy, fit and strong. I tell myself that every day. I want my ears to hear those words, constantly.
I am living from my end game, expecting the best to happen.
And, I still have seizures. I feel like I’m going to have one right now.
Sometimes, I feel them coming for days, and they never arrive. Sometimes, I don’t feel them coming at all.
But, they always start with my heart, building up speed, revving itself into a dizzy furry, without my permission.
It’s been awhile – maybe a month – since I felt the revving engines of my heart flutter out of control into a seizure. But, most afternoons, around three, I start to feel the sickness of seizures that never come – in my shoulders, sharp pains creep up and around like fingers digging into me. They never come, but I fight them constantly.
I have fifteen affirmations hanging above my desk. I repeat their “I am” statements daily. They are powerful – they make things happen, I’ve seen it. 90% of my wishes have been fulfilled in those affirmations…
I go to the gym now. I’m one of those people who wears a strappy, sexy sports bra under her tank top. I’m one of those people who wears neon pink tennis shoes on the treadmill. I have a gym ID badge, a workout plan, and extra hair ties in my backpack for messy gym-buns.
My muscles are sore today from all the weights I lifted at the gym this week. I’ve lost ten pounds, and several inches off my waist.
I still can’t run, but I can walk. Running makes me feel like I need to sleep for a week or three. Walking makes me feel like I could just keep going and make it to the redwoods of Oregon or the sharp, steep streets of San Francisco’s Nob Hill.
I’m going to walk 3.10686 miles in my first marathon in ten days.
I walked 20 miles in Maui last month . My lungs could finally breathe in Maui. Arizona’s altitude and junipers ask so much of these lungs each winter.
In Maui, I laid on the beach for five hours and asked the waves to heal my seizures. I broke out in hives, and ran into the ocean to feed myself to the water. The hives disappeared.
Five times a day an alarm goes off on my phone now. It reads: PROUD, ON FIRE, CONFIDENT. I am proud, on fire and confident, most of the time now: proud of digging myself out of a grave, confident I’ll land a literary agent and book deal soon, and on fire with passion and enthusiasm for life.
My heart is still racing; I wish it would slow down now, and let me catch up.
I still feel like I might have seizures. I think I’ll go lay down.
I canceled the appointments with the heart doctor.
I’m not the kind of girl who needs to wear a heart monitor. Am I.