Some days writing comes naturally. I don’t consider myself an especially great writer, but somedays all I have to do is put my fingers on the keys and the words pour out onto the screen. Other days, like today, I sit, staring at the blinking curser, not knowing what to type.

Tonight I focused on the blank screen, not sure of what to write, not sure of how to follow last night’s post. But I need to write. I need to push yesterday’s post down the screen so that sooner rather than later, it’ll be a part of my archives, not a painful essay staring at me.

Since school started and I’m back around my friends, I have been asked numerous times how I’m doing. I always hesitate to say that I’m doing well, which is the answer I think everyone wants, because, frankly, I’m not. Most days I’m just trying to make it to the end of the last class, the happy face I may or may not be wearing is hanging there by a proverbial thread. But it’s also hard to always say that I’m not well or that I’m just okay. It’s hard to always feel like I’m being negative, always seeing that damned half empty glass.

Being back at school has also alerted my classmates to the fact that I passed all my classes last semester. It’s odd the mix of reactions that people have had. Some are impressed, others are irritated. Those who hear (not from me, but from friends who know) what my grades were, tend to be the most bitter. Yes, I did well. But I also worked incredibly hard to get those grades, to catch back up, to survive that semester. I’m not looking for anyone to give me a trophy for my grades, but people who resent me for succeeding are hard to understand. They are not numerous, but they are upsetting, confusing.

What I want, more than anything else, is to fade into the background. I don’t want all my instructors to know my name, to know my problems. I want my classmates to think of me like any other person. I wish they didn’t know about last semester, I wish they didn’t know about the medical drama and the pain. I often feel like I’m in the spotlight when all I really want are the curtains.

A year ago, when the future was still uncertain, when I didn’t know what school or state I’d be in right now, I never imagined that things would be like this. I never thought that I’d be known for being the broken one, for being the “special case” or for my disability. I thought it would be my chance to start fresh, in a new place that didn’t know about my scars, that didn’t know about my past pain. And the irony of the way that things have instead turned out as the polar opposite, does not escape me at all.

But in all of this, I would be remiss to not see the good, to not see the beauty that has come out of all of this pain. I notice that blog readership has increased tremendously since August, which means people are here, and the emails (which I’m working on responding to) and the comments remind me daily that I’m not alone. Though it feels that way often, I know that there are people thinking about me and worried about me. People who want to help. I notice that my friends and classmates care enough about me to ask how I am doing, even when my answer is negative. I notice that my family (most of it) has rallied around me. I realize that my faith has been tested, but it has not been broken. If anything, I realize that it is stronger than ever.

There is so much ugliness in my life that has come with this pain. But there is beauty too, hidden beneath. And it’s hard not to wonder if I spent more time looking at the good things that I have gained, whether this pain would be easier to bear.

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