Journal, Supernatural

The difference with Supernatural

Two weeks ago, I had what I now consider a life-changing moment.

Early morning, crowded bus, on my way to get a CT scan. Ten days before that, a huge mass had been found inside of my abdomen during a sonogram. Mild pain on my left side, trip to the ER, the whole package. The vast, white-ish balloon was taking all the sonogram screen. An eleven inches one. The very definition of massive.

When I left the house, the morning of the scan, I was driving my own self insane with fear. Actual terror.

And something happened midway through the bus ride to the clinic. I looked at my phone and…Used it as a point of focus. To pause my brain and concentrate on the things that were making me dizzy with joy.

IMG_4440
Jared who…? Never heard of him. 

I overloaded my brain with every single emotion that picture could generate. And it was a lot.

I usually cave in when scary things happen to me : I let the stress and the panic win me over and eat away at my mind, making it all a million times worse.

Yet, this time, it worked beyond anything I could possibly hope for. I breathed in and out, and within seconds, there was a smile on my face. I could feel the strength radiating through my whole body. Not in a spiritual, or metaphoric way. Actual strength. My fear was over, and gone for good. The scan went so smoothly I even laughed with the nurses and didn’t felt lost or on the edge of a mental breakdown once. Not even close. The old me would have had a panic attack, no questions asked. Hell, I’d have had more than one.

As it turns out, I have a gigantic tumor inside of me. It has good chances of not being cancerous, something I’ll only know post-surgery. On December 15th, early afternoon, I’m undergoing a fully-fledged laparotomy, and will have to spend at least one night in ICU. Surgery is supposed to last merely an hour, or four if they find anything malicious and have to go for an extensive harvest. In the end, I’ll know for sure if I’m not carrying something malicious, or, say, life-threatening, on January 2nd.

And I’m fine. I had a laugh with my anaesthesiologist (who explained to me how they’re going to put a tube inside of my spine to hook me to painkillers), and with my surgeon (who explained to me in details how many different types of cancer they might find) and with each and every nurse met in between. When fear tries to take me over, I look somewhere my eyes will meet a Winchester, or Castiel, and the balance inside of my soul is restored in seconds.

I’m completely blown away by how Supernatural changed me, I could probably list a hundred, a thousand of things it has either completely erased, swapped, twisted or drastically altered. The person I was before, and the person I am now aren’t the same, at all. But if I had to pick one thing I am madly grateful for, I don’t even have to think about it. Supernatural made a fighter out of me. And I’m not convinced I had it in me all this time and it just needed to be inspired or awaken. It might be something this show, this cast, this energy and this family has created from scratch. It is.

A couple of days ago, upon meeting yet another nurse to ease my worries and prepare me at best for what’s to come, I had to reflect on my year 2017, and my own conclusions blew me away. I’ve started this year stuck in the depth of depression and fighting to stay alive, and I’m finishing it with the strongest will to live I have ever felt in 32 years of life. And in between, there’s this one day that changed everything, and that show that took over my existence and made it something I love so much I’m questioning how I even survived so long without them. I don’t know. I genuinely don’t. And despite all this mess, 2017 was most probably one of the most defining year, and maybe even one of the best ones.

I don’t precisely know how this happened. And I’m not sure that I want to. I’ve always considered that when something magical  light up your sky, trying to understand how it happened might undo it. It’s not in my nature not to ask questions. But I’ve just given up, there, because nothing really makes sense.

It could be the feeling of belonging somewhere real for the first time in my life. It could be finally finding people who are encouraging me to stay weird, and who make being awkward and nerdy and yourself such a beautiful thing. It could be finding a narrative that defends all of my obsessions and all of my favorite themes and turns it into a show that is so good and so satisfying it makes all the other ones look bland and half-assed. It could be being moved to tears by the words of someone who struggled the exact same way I did and had the courage to share it with the world, unaware of the good it would do to hundreds, thousands of us. It could be falling in love with characters so beautiful and so well-written they are existing outside of the televised realms, and are a living, breathing part of my world and my family. It could be laughing the loudest I’ve ever laughed and crying the hardest I’ve ever cried within the same episode, and laughing even louder and crying even harder following the live coverages of the conventions and understanding time and time again that I’m backing something up that is just so right. It could be the earth-shattering thrill of booking tickets to go to the Vancouver convention next year, regardless to my crippling fear of flying. It could be the joy and the excitement of learning that we’re getting an english version in a few months. It could be the proud thousands of euros suddenly taken away from my bank account and converted in photo ops tickets. It could be the sparkle in my eyes when I receive said tickets, and the smile on my face as I refuse to imagine what it’s going to look like because if I do, I might burst in billions of bubbles of sheer happiness. It could be the little jump my heart does anytime any of the actors pops up on my timeline, or the even bigger one whenever it’s Jensen or Misha…Jared ? It’s another thing entirely. And that could be it, too.

It could be the warmth and the overwhelming feeling of comfort I have any time I look at them. It could be how I sometimes feel the tears coming up to my eyes because I must have been so lucky to earn something so great.

Somehow, in my suicide-marked, depression-filled, tumor-stained year, I was lucky.

I’ve stopped looking for answers. I’m done. There aren’t any. I’m just taking it all in, all of it, and I let it overflow when it needs to. It’s so much bigger than me, I don’t have any control over it, and that’s probably the thing that makes it beautiful beyond belief.

The difference with Supernatural is impossible to put into words. It demands to be felt. 

 

 

 

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