Everyone has a different cure.

Everyone has a different cure to offer you when you get sick. And the intentions are so kind, so well-meaning—they want for you to heal. They want to see you out of pain. But when you’re drowning in it, and every day, there’s a new question of: what is poisoning me, today? What is safe? What is not? What hurts? What harms? What heals? Every cure has already been considered, dissected, obsessed over.

I take a small pharmacy of pills and supplements every day. This will cleanse your lungs, this will reinforce your breathing, this will give you energy, this will regulate your hormones, this will help you sleep, this will help you heal, this will keep you safe, this will remove the toxins from your body, this will do it, this will do it, this will do it.

What is the universe teaching me? What is God teaching me? What is the energy of this moment? Will grieving help my lungs? Will this release me from this spell? What manifestation do I need to chant, at what frequency do I need to vibrate, what prayers do I need to say, to finally feel well? To exorcise this from my body?

I am grieving for my old life. My life when I could hike without gasping, when I could reach a summit and enjoy it instead of seeing stars.

I had to leave my home. I had to say goodbye to my garden. I was diagnosed with asthma and told I could be hospitalized if I didn’t take this seriously. I had to leave my job. My dog got sick. I have to see a pulmonologist regularly. I’ve had chest x-rays, regular spirometer tests, CT scans, bloodwork, and an EKG.I can’t wear perfume. I can’t sit next to people wearing strong perfumes in public. I have to change seats at the movies. Fragrance used to be one of my favorite things.

I took the pills, I inhaled the mists and sprays and 3 different inhalers, I walked 10,000 steps, I ate clean food, I disavowed sugar, I disowned gluten, I renounced soy, I don’t eat meat, I said goodbye-9*-to butter, I charged my crystals, I repeated my mantra, I meditated, I still hurt. I still ache. I still grieve. I still mourn.

It’s all still within me, my throat aches and swells, it’s hard to talk to the ones I love– I’ll call tomorrow, I’ll feel better– my throat hurts, my lungs ache, I can’t speak. My breathing is labored after one flight of stairs but I climb three. I think of when I could run. I think of when I could dance. I think of when I was a pointe dancer, strong legs propelling me by the tips of my toes, my entire body a humming and streamlined machine—I took it for granted.

Everyone has a different cure– have you tried standing on your head? Have you tried eating only berries? Have you tried meditation? Have you tried yoga? Have you tried buteyko breathing? Have you tried IFS therapy? Have you tried this herb? Have you tried saunas? Have you tried apricots? Have you tried a CPAP? Have you tried red light therapy? Have you tried soundbaths? Have you tried a flotation tank? Have you tried psychedelics? Have you tried acupuncture? Have you tried reiki? Have you tried ecstatic dancing? Have you tried this? Have you tried this? Have you tried this? Have you tried this? Have you tried this? Have you tried this? Have you tried this?

Listen, I’ll try it all. I’ve tried it all.

My acupuncturist leans across the table, “To put it bluntly, aren’t you tired of living this way?” like I could change it if I wanted to.

It’s all I want to do. It’s all I think about. If I could, I promise—I would.