A few months ago, when the earthquake happened, something shifted in me. Not just the ground, but something inside my body too. Soon after, I started feeling this constant discomfort in my chest and throat. It felt like acid reflux. The burning, the heaviness, that familiar sensation people describe when acid decides to rebel against your peace.
So I did what most people do. I assumed it was reflux and started taking medication for it.
Weeks passed. Then months.
And it didn’t really get better.
At some point, you start to feel that quiet voice in your head saying maybe this isn’t what you think it is. So I finally decided to get checked properly. Tests, consultations, the waiting that always feels longer than it actually is.
And it turns out it was something worse than simple reflux.
Hearing that kind of news does something strange to your mind. Part of you wants to rewind time to when you still believed it was just something small. But life doesn’t really work that way. It moves forward whether we’re ready or not.
So here I am.
In recovery.
It’s not dramatic every day. Most days are actually quiet. Just small decisions, small progress, small reminders to take care of a body that has been trying to tell me something all along.
Healing, I’m learning, isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s just waking up, taking the next step, and trusting that your body is slowly finding its way back.
And for now, that’s the journey I’m on.