I've got nothing to say but it's ok

Good Morning.

One of my absolute favorite Beatle songs.

And the line: I've got nothing to say but it's ok?

That rings true to the depths of my soul. It's not who I am yet but it's who I want to be.

This kidney journey is forcing me, yet again, to face things I haven't faced before, to stare down the unknown in a High Noon stand off, to accept what is. Because, really, what else is there once you get past the past, the future, the drama, the stories, the what ifs, the spin.

And every step of this is about being ok with where I am. That's all I can do, all I can be.

Having said that, I'm not there yet. But I have glimmers.

The transplant social worker blew my mind three times yesterday and gave me important tools for this journey.

1. As I was descending into panic she told me to look at my history. That I'd always been ok in the end and I should know I would be this time too. Brilliant.

2. The way we function in our lives, the way we cope, deal, process, avoid, we learned by the time we are 7 years old. Anxiety and compartmentalizing? My life began with those and I've internalized them to be my own. The good news: it doesn't have to stay that way.

3. All my experiences are a fabric that is me. Everything contributes, molds, shapes. It all plays a part somewhere.

It had been a long time since I'd had one of those types of conversations. I've chosen to stay away from therapy because I don't want to delve into the pain and the past again.

I realized, though, how far I've come. And how this kidney journey is a part of my story.

Donating is not a choice. It is what is.

And it's ok.