If you know me even a little, you're probably aware that I would not consider myself an angry person. That is, by no means, a way for me to brag. Instead, the shape anger takes in my mind shows up in different ways. I am (unfortunately), an angry crier.
When I reflect on what denial looks like to me, there are things more obvious than others: attending lectures and labs after intense appointments, pushing through practices as much as possible, and reassuring my parents that there was no need to worry. However, one thing will always stick out most to me.
Maybe it's a bold assumption to make, but I imagine most people think of grief as something negative that takes place in the aisles of a funeral home in oceans of people wearing dark colors. Expand your view, and suddenly you might see grief as something else entirely. I see grief as this: an ever-changing, awkwardly shaped object that doesn't quite fit in your pocket, forcing you to carry it around in your hand every day. Sometimes, the general form of it morphs, becomes heavier or lighter, and you may notice it more one day and less the next.
“I don’t know how you do it.” That is a phrase I've heard often over the past year from a handful of friends, and while it’s always meant to be taken as a compliment, I never really know how to respond. In fact, people who have walked through battles way harder than mine have stated that they struggle with an answer to that, too.
There are a handful of things that are guaranteed to make me cry at any time: soldier homecoming videos, people saying goodbye to their childhood dogs, a handful of hyper-specific sad country songs, and a long list of old hymns, specifically How Deep the Father's Love for Us.
A bit of "time wasting" before my sister's wedding
There's this example that some people with illnesses use to explain their lives. While I don't really like the drama of it all, I have to admit that I've used the "spoon theory" a handful of times to describe my days. Imagine you wake up with 30 spoons each day-think of them as energy points (and no, I don't know why spoons were chosen either). Each task takes away a certain number of spoons. Perhaps your shower takes a spoon, making an extravagant breakfast takes 2, and going to the gym takes 7. After that, you still have 20 spoons to spare for the day! Hopefully, you get the concept.
Hi! My name is Evie Novak, and I know what it's like to be scooped up and placed into a situation I never thought would happen to me. A year and eight months ago, I was eighteen, in the best shape of my life, playing college volleyball, and pursuing a career in medicine–my lifelong dream. Somewhat ironically, after my very first semester of college, I got super sick and was soon diagnosed with a chronic disease that forced me into a lifestyle I certainly would not have chosen for myself. Sickness has taken a lot from my life, but after many difficult moments on this journey, the Lord has taught me that joy does not have to be something else stolen by circumstances.
Right now, I’m living in a backup plan (hence the blog name). I’m getting my journalism degree online (a college major that was a much easier choice than a pre-med track), living at home, and pursuing various medical treatments. In this phase, I'm discovering a beautiful plethora of things the Lord has for me, and I am learning an abundance about God's heart. Even with the questions I still definitely have, and the many challenges my health has brought, I'm learning to find comfort in the arms of the Lord despite living in 'Plan B,' and I am so eager to share my findings with you here.
I am prayerful that this page provides you with a renewed sense of hope, gratitude, helpful perspective, and the skills to move through the things that don't go your way (which I hope you never face, but just in case).
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