A lot of us have faced moments of failure, loss, and reached a point that may have felt like rock bottom. Maybe we made poor choices, weren’t appreciative enough, or surrounded ourselves with people who didn’t value us. But if there’s one common thread running through all those experiences, it’s regret. Possible regret for not standing up to others, not vocalizing how we feel, or not having done something sooner. How many of us have had to endure pain or loss before realizing what really matters? Far too many. Living with regret is a heavy burden, and I’ve made it my mission to change that for myself and hopefully inspire others to do the same. Unfortunately, it took something drastic for me to reach this conclusion. And to spare others from that same misery, I’m here to share my story.
I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis when I was about four years old. It’s an autoimmune disease where the immune system mistakenly attacks the joints in our body, causing pain through swelling and stiffness. For the longest time, the diagnosis barely affected me. I was fortunate that it was something to simply monitor — just a condition I was born with. I never paid it much mind, never took it as seriously as I should have. I took the medications because I was told to, went to the doctor’s appointments because I was told to. It was something that just became part of my routine, and I was in no position to question it — I was a child.
Everything changed when COVID hit. After getting my first vaccination, my immune system reacted terribly to it. It triggered a severe flare-up that got me hospitalized. I was covered in rashes, fevers, had not a single ounce of energy to spare. Worst of all, I lost something I had always taken for granted: my movement. I lost the ability to walk, close my hand, and bend my elbow. I couldn’t hold a phone, a pencil, or open up a water bottle. Even leaning up from the hospital bed was a struggle. What did it feel like? The best way I can describe it is that it felt like my body was tied to anchors pulling me down. My legs felt like they were crystallizing, and my ankles — whenever I tried to walk — felt as if hot iron shackles were wrapped around them. Everything I was familiar with was suddenly out of reach.
This story resonates with the point I’m trying to make specifically because the timing of the flare-up couldn’t have been worse. It happened around the end of my junior year in high school, and I was about to enter the summer. I had been holding off a lot of things (probably because of the pandemic, but in general, I used to refrain from doing pretty much anything). I wanted to get back into skating, going on hikes, riding my bike, etc., but I waited too long. I spent that summer in and out of hospitals, forced to ask doctors, “Will I be able to walk like I used to? Write like I once could?” and to be met with a whole lot of “We’re not sure.” They put me on strong medications with even stronger side effects, the primary one being hair loss. I spent a good portion of my life complaining about my hair, and now something occurred in my life in which I barely had any.
I was angry. My desire to go out and be active was still fresh, and suddenly, it was ripped away before I even had a chance to fully embrace it. My beautiful hair, which had been passed down from my mother and my mother’s mother, was mostly gone now. Why didn’t I go on the hike sooner? Why did I waste so many years hating my hair?
This brings me to my main point. If there’s one thing this experience has taught me, it’s this: don’t wait until you’re sick or until you’ve lost everything to appreciate what you have. Time, health, relationships, a roof over your head — these are all things we take for granted until they’re gone. Health especially. But it’s not about feeling guilty for being unaware. It’s natural to be comfortable with routine and what feels consistent. The key is simply allowing yourself to be grateful.
Once I started getting better, I began living like my ability to lose what mattered could happen again. I stopped talking badly about my hair and myself. You only get to live your 20’s once! I did anything I thought of: early walks, side quests after class, renting bikes and going into the city, going to the gym, etc. I pushed myself to explore all the things my body was capable of. I prioritized my health — both mental and physical — because we only get one body, one life, and we have to cherish it.
I’ve applied this same mindset beyond just my health. If I have something to say, I say it. If there’s something I want to do, I do it. Life is too precious to hold back, too precious to wait for the “right time”. Once you understand that you only live once and there are countless songs, people, and experiences waiting for you, you’ll want to take in every moment all at once.
So, what’s the takeaway? Don’t wait until you’ve hit rock bottom to start climbing back up. Sure, sometimes a reality check is what’s needed, but that extra mile could always be avoided. Start now. Take that art class, join that club sport, learn that instrument — whatever calls to you, do it. It’s easy to get lost in the routine of life and forget that you have the freedom to do anything you want. Don’t wait. Live fully, right now.
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