As the calendar flips to December, I find myself in a state of reflection. The twinkling lights, the crisp winter air, the holiday cheer, they all serve as a stark contrast to the battle I've been waging within myself for the past 15 years. A battle with my health, an uninvited guest that has overstayed its welcome.
I've heard it said many times, "God gives his toughest battles to his strongest warriors". It's a line that's been offered to me like a warm blanket on the coldest nights. But today, my truth, in all its rawness, is that the blanket feels a bit thin.
It's not that I have lost faith. It's more about feeling conflicted, wrestling with questions that seemingly have no answers. If a divine plan exists, one that decided I should carry this burden, where does my free will come in? Did I have a say in this battle, or was I simply drafted into it without my consent?
I'm known for my positivity, my resilience, my unyielding determination. But today, I am tired. And I’m not afraid to admit it.
There's a common narrative that people wouldn't change their lives if given the chance. They claim that every experience, every hardship, every struggle has been necessary to shape them into the person they are. But today, my truth is different. If the Ghost of Christmas Past or Present or Future came and offered me a chance to rewrite my story, without hesitation, I would take it.
Not because I don't appreciate the strength this journey has given me or the perspective it has offered. But because I believe in the possibility of a better narrative, a narrative not tainted by the relentless pain and fatigue caused by my health issues. A narrative where I am not just existing, but truly living.
In this alternate universe, I imagine myself healthier, stronger, free from the shackles of my ailments. I envision a life where my energy isn't spent on doctor's appointments and treatments but on creating beautiful memories with the people I love.
I think about the people in my life. They've been my pillars, my rocks, standing by my side, sharing in my pain, my victories, my defeats. And they deserve better. They deserve a version of me that isn't constantly at war. They deserve the fullness of me, not the remnants left behind after each battle.
And I do wish I could give them that version. Not because I feel guilty or burdensome, but because I believe they deserve all the love and joy this world has to offer, unmarred by the shadow of my health issues.
This might not be what you were expecting from me, especially in the season of joy and gratitude. The guy who's always wearing a smile, who's always ready with a word of encouragement. But I am human. And sometimes, being human means admitting that I'm tired.
But don't mistake my tiredness for surrender. Don't mistake my wish for an alternate reality as a sign of defeat. I am a warrior, fighting a battle I didn't choose. But I still hold the power in how I wage this war.
And perhaps, this is where my free will truly comes into play. Not in choosing the battle, but in choosing how to fight it. Not in changing my past, but in shaping my future.
I am a warrior, and I am tired. But I am also hopeful. And if there's one thing I know about hope, it's that it can light up the darkest nights, even when the blanket feels a bit thin.
As we step into the holiday season, my wish for myself, and for all of us, is that we find strength in our battles, peace in our struggles, and the courage to hope, no matter how tired we are. Because being human means acknowledging our fatigue, but it also means recognizing our resilience. And sometimes, that's all the Christmas magic we need.