Today is a good day.

My long-distance Swedish friend, and fellow aortic survivor Timo, likes to say "today is a good day." The first time I read the phrase in one of his post cards, the words didn't really sink in. But after a few months, and continuous inspiration from my pal, I started to use the saying myself. At first, I didn't even notice that I had been doing so. But when the pattern became apparent, I wanted to embrace it. Today is a good day, as Timo declares, because today is a day at all. That small and simple statement is often over-looked in today's society. There are so many distractions to begin believing that we are invincible. But, for those of us that have been affected by life altering situations and/or circumstances, we know [sometimes fearfully so] that we are not. Because today is all that we have. And the realization of that thought is where the blessing lies.

So, you can either take this day, and allow it's overwhelming burdens to weigh you down, or you can find the good in it. Personally, I need to stop getting so caught up in the details. I worry and stress unnecessarily because I crave this un-perfectable perfection that doesn't truly exist. What does exist is this very moment, this very breath, this very special moment of existence. It may be un-perfectly perfect, but that is ok.

The Story

There is a story behind my story that I don't often tell. I keep it to myself because the victory of life seems more appealing than the story of death. But I learned some of life's most valuable lessons during my darkest days.

So allow me to begin.

I used to be broken. I used to feel lost. I used to wonder if the "good days" would ever return again. There were nights where I lay awake unable to sleep, mornings where I awoke from night terrors in a cold sweat, afternoons where I left work and cried myself to sleep because it was the only way to stop the bottomless pit of panic in my chest. And no one knew what was wrong with me. "Perfect Health" they claimed.

Here is a brief list of symptoms that I approached my doctor with, roughly 4 months after they began:

Headache
Stomach ache
Panic attacks
Mood swings
Hair loss
Weight loss
Hearing loss
Vision loss
Confusion
Paranoia
Swollen lymph nodes
Sore throat
Cough
Runny nose
Rash
Back pain
Neck pain
Light headedness
Social anxiety
General anxiety
Suicidal thoughts
Loss of appetite
Chest pain
Rapid pulse
Night terrors
Dizziness
Fainting
Trembling
Impending doom
 

... and the list goes on.

I remember saying to my doctor "I just feel like I'm dying." But all he did was analyze my blood work and conclude that I was in "perfect health."

4 months passed before my first symptoms and 3 more would pass before I returned to the doctor demanding more tests because it had become so hard to breathe that I could barely function. 1 week later I found myself being rushed to the E.R. via ambulance. 3 months after that I found myself in the hospital being prepped for open heart surgery.

And this... is merely the prologue.

Bonus Levels

I crave adventure.

Every time I step into the fresh air I allow myself to absorb natures wonders. And without disappointing, the wonders always lead to answers that have been laid on my heart. I like to call those answers "dream visions."

To me, a dream vision can be any type of realization - a mind blowing epiphany, the solution to a problem, a trip idea or simply a self discovery.

Whatever the case may be it allows me to learn and grow both mentally and physically.

Most importantly, I allow my mind to decide for itself what is most important. What I have concluded above all else is that I cannot allow life to pass me by. I want to go everywhere and see everything, because merely existing is not an option.

My time already ran out once. But my heart said "no death, not yet."

Now I'm just living in bonus levels.

And I cannot wait to see what each new day has in store...

Be careful what you wish for.

I was always the tough one.

The middle child. The athlete. The tom-boy. The "anything you can do I can do better" one. Even when I felt inadequate, or weak, or vulnerable I never let it show. How could I? I had a reputation to live up to.

I was a Greenlee.

The daughter of the fire chief, the speed skating coach, the Sunday school teacher, the Girl Scout leader. The sister of a valedictorian, a speed skating champion, a partier, a star baseball player, a paramedic, a dancer.

I had to keep up. I had to do it all.
And I had to do it better.

They were tough. But I was tougher. It never felt like competition... it was just all I knew.

So I did everything.

I fought fires, I won speed skating nationals, I memorized Bible verses, I hiked, I got A's, I excelled in sports, I danced.

But I didn't stop there, I couldn't stop there.

I didn't just dance, I sang and acted. I didn't just excel in sports, I picked up rugby and sky diving. I didn't just party, I threw the parties. My family loves to travel... so I became the mover.

I not only did everything... I did everything better.

Until my life came to a sudden, unexplainable, un-"toppable" hault.

And the only question that remains after all these years is "why me?" The supposedly genetic disorder affected no one else in my family. Just me. The tough one. The middle child. The athlete. The tom boy. The "anything you can do I can do better" one.

The un-"toppable" open heart surgery survivor.

I guess I got what I always wanted.

The thump.

The problem with having such an in tune heart is that you feel every emotion so much more intensely. The good thing about having such an in tune heart is that you are privileged to feel so strongly.

I know that statement won't make sense to a lot of people, but open heart changes you. For so long I feared the constant heart beat... wait. Let me explain. I can feel it. Like... it. My heart. Every single beat. I feel it pumping blood through every single vein. I hear it's pounding even in my head. I can feel every thump it makes. Every thump. It's gotten more quiet, or maybe I've grown more accustomed to it. But it's always there. Reminding me that it has been in someone's hands. Literally pumped back to life. By someone's hands. It still amazes me. Maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. Yes. I'm being dramatic.

Back to the point. What was the point? Hands. Pumping. Hearts. Emotions. Ah, yes, emotions. I hate them. Or maybe I love them. I don't know.

The point is that I got really good at quieting them. Emotions, that is. But the problem remains that I cannot quiet the thump. But perhaps it isn't a problem after all. Perhaps, through all of my attempts in quieting my emotions, I neglected my heart so that it could decide on it's own. Decide what was worthy of the thump. Because it tugs at me in this strange way, as if it's saying... "... go on... thump... allow your heart to be pumped back to life." And, I mean, I tried to quiet it... and i tried to ignore it. But thump. It's still there. And the problem with having such an in tune heart is that... no. I shouldn't talk in circles. The good thing about having such an in tune heart is that... yes. You are privileged to feel so strongly. Privileged. Because I couldn't feel... I wouldn't feel... I shouldn't feel what I do. If it wasn't real.

I don't know what I was thinking. Sorry heart. Thump on.

My tummy hurts

Sometimes I wish I could be a kid again. I miss the days where my Mom would put a bandaid on a "boo boo" that wasn't even bleeding. Just because it made me feel better.

There's really something to say about that kind of love. The love that says "I'm doing this to make you feel better even though it isn't necessary."

It must take a lot of sacrifice for parents to achieve selfless love like that. Maybe some never do. I suppose I was one of the lucky kids.

I still text my Mom when I'm sick. In fact, I just did. She didn't even ask what was wrong, she just began the response with "poor baby." You see, to her it doesn't matter the who, the what, the where, the why. All that matters is me, and my well being.

Wouldn't it be beautiful if everyone loved so selflessly?

In my weakest moments I'm reminded of my strongest bonds. The people I turn to when I feel helpless, alone, afraid, confused, or when I just have a tummy ache. Those are the people I love the most.

I hope I tell them that enough.

Because.

My heart hurts.

The holidays are hard for me because they stir up the anniversary of my achievement in beating death. Because it is still so hard for me to accept it as an achievement.

I have realized that I don't let others into the dark parts of my soul because it's too scary in there for even myself to reveal. But I'm thinking that maybe it's time. Because I'm realizing it's long overdue.

There's no pity party to throw because I have no one to blame but myself. But there is a lot of hurt and pain that I've swept under the rug for far too long. Writing helps. But it's not enough. I need to say things out loud that I've been too afraid to admit to my own mind. Why? Because the fear of making myself vulnerable. The fear of not being accepted. The fear of having no more scars to hide behind.

Sometimes I torture myself just because hurting seems easier than healing. But a broken me is a destructive me. And, oh, do I long to be unbroken.

You see... my heart wants to love so badly. It wants to be loved so badly. So it is time too rid myself of this burden I have been carrying for 3 years. Because unless I heal my own heart, I'll never be capable of fully giving it to someone else.

It's time to flip the script.
To start a new scene.

... a love scene.

Why?

Because my heart no longer belongs to just me.