First and foremost, I'm better. I can safely, 100%, without a doubt scream that I am better. I could say it's because of my wonderful friends, the fabulousness of the Harvard Extension School, or my newfound deep and abiding love for skiing...but if the past year has taught me anything, it's that things are the other way around. I adore my friends, somewhat creepily love my classes, and have discovered a passion for my new favorite sport because of what has been going on inside of me. It is I who input the world into my brain and compute an output. And that can only result in a great output now that my brain is functioning in a way that is handling the input correctly..."correctly" meaning the way I was born to handle it, the way I've always handled it in health. That said, my friends ARE amazing, Harvard's definitely the Duke of the North, and skiing has rocked my socks off. Credit where it's due, for sure.
So on to those three aspects that are so central to my life now. (It's so awesome that they are now central instead of trying to get rid of "it"...the disease.) Finally becoming able to branch out in Boston has only made my recovery that much more rewarding. I always had my best friend here, but the poor guy has been through so many screwed up versions of me and handled so many crises that I always knew he needed some breaks. To be fair, no one can healthily spend all of their time with one other person. None of us are THAT interesting, that dynamic, that patient on a regular basis. And so it is that I've finally found some more friends. So now I have my best friend, and I have a solid group of other people with whom I'm quickly falling in love as well, who bring out parts of me that I've desperately missed in my illness. Being surrounded by good people is about 95% of the stuff of life in my opinion...between Indian after parties, outrageous themed house parties, ski trips, movie outings, bowling nights, and...oh...dinners at the best restaurants in Boston...I think I'm doing pretty well.
Then there's Haahhhhvahd. I never ever ever considered this place when I was 17 and contemplating my collegiate future. And never would I ever second-guess my decision to attend Duke. It was, is, and will ALWAYS be my home, and as the Latin implies, my nourishing mother. But Duke doesn't have a postbac program...and Durham had begun to feel a bit like a fish bowl. So now, Harvard. When I thought all hope was lost and I'd never get through the pre-health curriculum, there came Harvard and her Duke-like facilities, inspiring professors, friendly students...(and awesome food, by the way...) The fact that I can not only sit through a 3-hour chemistry lecture, but remain engaged through one...hell, even look forward to one...says something BIG. I couldn't sit through 50 minutes at that other institution I attempted to attend. The fact that I can ask questions because the answers will actually make sense, that I laugh with my partners through lab, that I honestly can't wait to get to the next chapter and see what's going to happen - that's pretty amazing to me. I'm becoming a huge chemistry dork, and it's all Harvard's fault. Tonight, as I was walking from lab across campus to the T, listening to "Fireflies" on my iPod, I felt a lurch in my throat. It's the same feeling I get every time I spot Duke chapel for the first time again or stroll across West Campus on a gorgeous day. It doesn't mean Harvard's on par with Duke - my 4 years at Duke encompassed far too much for Harvard to ever come close. But it means I'm happy, and slightly enamored. Plus, the science center pizza really IS good.
And now to skiing. I haven't really gotten to participate in a sport since I graduated from high school. And if I have, I haven't been very good over the past several years, as my knees and my back have gone downhill and I've been terribly out of shape. Something is lost in my personality without a sport to play - it and school and friends were how I was shaped as a kid. So here comes skiing. The first few times, it was terrifying and difficult and oh so painful. But now I'm running blue trails and my soreness at the end of the day only extends to used muscles instead of bruises. I fly down green trails and savor the sound of the wind as it whips past my ears, the snow as my skis carve through it...at other times, I stop to take a look around at breathtaking scenery and breathe crisp, cold mountain air. My heart leaps into my throat at Mount Stratton's summit. I can't wait to ski down again. The loaded chili in a bread bowl is also really good at the end of the day...
Take all of that together, and I'm falling head over heels for my city. I get to take the red line 6 times a week across the Charles River. Again, I feel that tug in my chest every time the Hancock building appears on one side, the Zakim Bridge on the other...Boston's lights dancing on the river, frozen or flowing. "I'm so glad this is my city," I've thought so many times at that moment. Such a contrast from just a year ago. I'm eating it all up.
No comments:
Post a Comment