Holly Winter Huppert: Living the Life of Holly
Jan 19, 20162 min
My medical past will singe your eyelashes.
Run. Away. Now.
Though this condition isn’t catching, it is heavy enough to hold you in a dark place.
Beware reader! Look away.
The elevator out of hell was a slow, slow ride. Friends flocked, open mouthed, to my hospital rooms as if my medicals were a horror flick that had to be experienced—in person.
I used my medical unrest to prove my strength and my victimhood at the same time. My specialty was airing my problems for all to see. Though woe made me interesting, I was an envy to none.
Disasters collected me.
Life was ugly. Big. Foul. Awful. Terrifying. Sticky.
After twenty years of focusing on the difficulties that raged through my cells, I noticed something. Something small.
There, under those medical shadows, there were pieces of my life that—worked, even in chaos.
I was there. Right there.
There was a sweetness, barely visible. It was a version of myself that wasn't thwarted by my medicals.
I was not my problems?
No.
I was a combination of overbearing difficulties with an underbearing essence, and my essence was the most interesting part of me.
It was playful and sought adventure. I traveled. And fed my curiosity. And loved. And lost love. And wrote it all down. People stopped asking about my medicals. I pretended not to notice.
Once I caught my breath, I grew taller. And calmer.
These days you don’t have to worry about me sliming you with my problems; I’ve stopped subjecting listeners to the haughty game, “I bet you an hour of your time that I can depress you with my story!”
Because I’ve learned something in my rollercoaster life: I don’t care about silver linings. Shit’s silver lining stinks. I’m reached for the part of myself that sings under the shadows.
A song of me: my essence.
My story includes the entire wheel of fortune—including the riches.
They’re already here.