We had packed my bags and said goodbyes.
I had a cart with my stuff piled high.
I had been here a long time.
This was the day I had waited for. Had worked for. Had dreamed of. If the meds would let me dream.
I was ready to leave the hospital.
I got in the car to go home after saying goodbye to my special nurse.
It seemed right that the nurse that had my first shift also had my last.
The place that had been safe for weeks.
It became home.
Where they made me feel like I could do something.
I was ready to leave.
I was going home.
A place I hadn’t been in months.
It was going to feel weird
I wasn’t the person I was when I left my home.
When I traded shopping for fighting.
And I feel like I’ve never stopped.
(Fighting not shopping)
The fight changes but never quits.
I’m still fighting.
I will be for a long time.