I’ve been up all night again, but I don’t really mind. I’ve decided not to stress about my weird sleep schedule and instead just go with it. Tonight, though, I’ve been particularly… joyfully scatterbrained. I’ve been jumping from one thing to another, letting my thoughts wander, doing this, that, and whatever else comes to mind. It’s been kind of fun.

    I was just watching that ‘Happiness‘ video for about the millionth time tonight when I started thinking. A couple days ago I had a bit of a revelation – every other time I’ve been sick like this, I’ve always come up with all sorts of grand and elaborate plans about what I’d do with my life once I was better. Big things, things to do with my life on an epic scale, like Courtauld, racing, production, etc. When stuck in bed I’ve always had my ducks in a row so that once I was well again I could hit the ground running.

    But this time? Nothin.

    Isn’t that weird? I don’t have a single plan. I seriously have no clue what I’ll do with myself if I’m able to be well again. When I first realized this, it felt a bit ominous and scary, because it was something tangible that proved to myself that my subconscious mind is resigned to never getting out of this state. If you’re never going to be well again, why bother with a plan, right?

    But that’s not like me. I always have a crazy plan up my sleeve. At least, I always have.

    I grappled with that realization for a while, until at one point I was confessing this for the first time out loud whilst talking to Alastair. In the midst of trying to explain it, I just kind of stopped… and laughed. What’s so bad about not being me for a change? Every other time I’ve gotten well, had a plan, and hit the ground running, I’ve always ended up right back where I started: stuck in bed. I’ve always gotten sick again and the cycle starts all over again, leaving me more emotionally beaten than before after having been teased with a life yet again.

    In a way, it’s really freeing not to be staring at that cycle again. It’s a big unknown now – no plans, no schemes, no nothing. I honestly haven’t a clue what I’ll do with myself! Isn’t that fantastic? Nothing!

    I guess I could choose to see it as something scary, but I don’t care. I like to think of it as a completely new beginning; if I’m allowed out of this hell, I’ll be a new person in so many ways. In some ways, sure, that’s sad; I think I’ve lost a bit of that wide-eyed-ness I had before. A little bit of that spirit that leads to jumping around a neighborhood in a white suit looking like a complete loon. There’s still a bit of it there, it’s just not as overpowering as before. Maybe it’ll come back, maybe it won’t. But it’s a difference.

    I know how to describe it! Stephen Coates said something once in his little fiction/non-fiction stories he likes to tell; “bruised but buoyant.” That’s what I am now. Or rather, the buoyance will come when I’m done being bruised and I’m given a chance to heal properly.

    But what do I do then? If I am that lucky, what do I do with myself?

    I don’t want to come up with a plan. Not a big one anyway. I think I’m going to try to be truly brave for once in my life, in the sense that I always imagined as the pinnacle but could never live up to. I’m going to jump in without looking, without a plan, without any detailed lists of which steps to take and when. I want to dive in and see what happens.

    I want to let life happen.

    Sure, I have a lot of little plans. I want to go to London, of course, cause hey, talk about tradition. Alastair and I are planning a road trip; he’s been dangling it like a carrot, trying to bribe my body into healing. I want to go back to Italy and see if my favorite gelato man is still in Roveredo. If I can get my legs back, I want to wear a miniskirt (over leggings – don’t have a heart attack, Kevin!) I want to finally make it to the Eighteenth Street Lounge. I want to have the 21st birthday party I never got to have. I want to go back to that vintage shop in Covent Garden.

    Basically, I want to go through this list I’ve been making; a list of things that I’d miss if I don’t get well. So if I’m allowed to get well, I’m knocking that list out as soon as humanly possible. My hope is that somewhere along the way – as I tick off each little box adjacent to the silliest of trifles – I’ll come up with an idea of who this new me is and what I want to do with this new part of my life.

    I’m sure I’ll figure something out… if I can get there.