“Ooooo, I should’ve gone first”

My elated and hopeful heart plummets to my toes.

Beneath, my toes, actually. And through the floor, crawling into the craggy layers of rock that is the Earth’s suffocating crust.

I had just confessed to my boyfriend that I wanted to spend my life with him. That he meant everything to me. That even though I was going to move out of State, our past week apart (a week we decided to spend apart to decide how we wanted to move forward in our relationship) helped me realized that he was all I ever wanted.

“What…what do you mean?” I stammer as I’m trying to keep my insides from spilling out.

“I don’t think we should stay together. I don’t think we’re a good match.” He replies with shrugged shoulders.

It’s nearly midnight. We’re sitting on the bed in his room in near darkness with only the moonlight from the window to illuminate our faces.

No, it wasn’t like that. I had been in Phoenix all day and I couldn’t wait anymore to tell him how I felt. So a visit at midnight it was.

I had never loved anyone else. It didn’t make sense that forever wasn’t also on his radar.

“What do you mean?” I barely whisper.

“It’s just..” he looks down at the ground “I don’t see a future with you. You’re always sick and I want…I want a wife I can do marathons with.”

My brain freezes. Like a key in a lock that stop when it reaches the full rotation. A lock to a box that I have tucked away in the deep corners of my mind so it wouldn’t interfere with me trying to date. A box with a lid that is beginning to vibrate with my screams trapped inside of it.

I don’t say anything. I’m so heartbroken. I’m so ashamed of letting myself fall in love. For letting someone else in. How could I be so stupid. I think to myself. You’ve always known that no one wants you. Not really.

I can’t bring myself to say anything more. Without a word I make my way out of his room and to his front door.

“Kodi…” he says, reaching for me. I turn around as I’m halfway out the door, but The Box inside of me is about to erupt, so I turn back around and leave.

At home I cry. I mean, it’s only reasonable when your worst fear just became a reality.

But why? It’s not like it’s a flaw in my character. These things are out of my control.

Maybe if you were better at controlling it all, hiding it all, he would love you.

The Box in my mind takes a new form. The Box holds a fear that has now evolved into a belief. A belief that: no one wants to marry a sick girl.

I wish I could say I found my self-worth after that moment. That I pulled myself up knowing I deserved better. That I had friends and family that spat at what he said, that gaped at the audacity. But no one did.

I honestly didn’t tell many the Real Reason why he broke up with me, afraid of pity I’d see in their eyes. The few people I did tell didn’t have much to say…maybe they believed that same thing as he did.

I leave the State as planned. Only to come back 7 months later when my sister falls chronically ill and needs around the clock care.

In the heartbreak, I let anyone kiss me. If they’re willing to “see past my sick” even for a moment, that to me means that I’m not completely disgusting. I even let Him, the same him as before who didn’t want me, kiss me all over again. And again. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll never be accepted as I was, so I’m willing to have what I could get. I’m the beggar, resigned to never be a chooser.

And I am so sad and hurt.

Eventually, I move to Colorado. My sister’s health improves- she’s more stable and I need a fresh start.

A girl I had just met minutes before said “Come over here, I want to introduce you to Kenyon.”

“Hi, I’m Kodi.” I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and give him a warm smile.

“Hi, yeah I think I saw you at the party last night. Are you new here?”

“I am! Just moved here 3 days ago.”

“Nice…” He’s run out of things to say but I don’t want him to leave.

“Um hey, I’m grabbing new numbers from people I meet so I can make new friends…can I have yours?” You Liar. You haven’t grabbed anyone else’s number.

“Sure! It’s….”

We hang out a few times before he starts taking me out on dates. He is really sweet and I enjoy getting to know him.

“Hey, I know you’re new here, but Kenyon belongs to my best friend, so back off”. A note has just been slid to me while I am sitting next to him at a church event. I keep the note angled away from Kenyon. He has seemed distracted the whole night and now I knew why. He gets a text and stands up almost simultaneously with a girl sitting behind me. When they walk out together to go into the hallway, I don’t act bothered. The Box reminds me of “The Truth” anyways: that we would’ve never worked out once he learned about my history.

Chapter 2

“It’s just a small fender bender.”

“You sure?”

I look over at my totaled car. “Oh yeah, just a little crunched up.” I wipe blood from my nose. The nosebleed hasn’t stopped since hitting my face on the steering wheel. You should have worn your seatbelt you dummy. Did your traumatic brain injury teach you nothing?

“I’ll catch a ride home with the tow truck driver.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

“Want to go to the mall?” I’ve arrived in Denver for my weekend visit. I shrug “Sure.” The mall isn’t really my place, but my Mom and sister want to go window shop.

It’s been two weeks since my car accident and although The Ordeal has left me a little fuzzy in the head with some strange pains in my stomach, I don’t think much about it.

Until now.

While walking around the mall, my leg suddenly starts to twitch uncontrollably. Never mind that I’ve been relatively okay working in the August heat on a farm and haven’t had anything like this the past two weeks. Out of no where and VERY suddenly my leg is moving like I’m short-circuiting. My mom and sister (and even myself) begin to laugh because…what the heck.

My whole body begins to fold in on itself. My abdominal muscles are starting to contract and I can’t stand upright. We make it to the car (still giggling because we are slightly crazy people with a lot of trauma – IYKYK) and I say I just need to lay down. The pain is getting more intense. My Mom and sister insist that I need to go to the ER. “No way,” I tell them. But I can’t even keep my body in control, let alone fight them for the steering wheel, so off the ER I go.

Dread hits my stomach. I’m sitting in a wheelchair in the ER lobby with my head bobbing all over the place and my Very Aware mind can only think about how Everything I ran from back home is following me here to Colorado. Another head injury, another strange reaction. The past begins to creep up my neck and I can only think about:

1. I’m about to lose friends.
2. I’m about to lose my progress or potentially my entire chance at getting a college degree.
3. I’m about to lose my boyfriend.
4. Oh gosh, I’m about to lose my boyfriend the same way I lost the last one.
5. Great.

“I’m going to call Kenyon!” my mom tells me.

“No!” I yell at her.

She doesn’t know the story of what happened last time, but I’m not about to tell her. I just need to recover this weekend, I’m sure I’ll be fine, and then I’ll be able to go back to school on Monday without anyone the wiser.

Somewhere between that phone call, Kenyon getting home from work, and driving an hour to the hospital in Denver, the ER discharges me.

The mortification hits me deep in That Box when my sweet boyfriend begins walking up to the ER with flowers all while I’m in a wheelchair, bent over from non-stop muscle twitching. The contractions in my abdomen are so severe that I can’t lift myself up to greet him. Not because I don’t want to, it’s just physically impossible. Something is seriously wrong.

I go back to my parents house to stay in their spare room. The Box opens. All the doubts I had about myself previously, the “me” I left behind, has just hit me full force. My body won’t quit twitching and seizing up. It’s affecting my organs. I’m having incontinent issues. I’m constantly exhausted. My chest pain is excruciating. And I now can’t get around without a wheelchair.

My life is shifting fast.

I have nothing to do but take care of myself, and it’s a full time job. Every day Kenyon makes the hour drive to visit me after he gets off of work. But all those hours spent in pain in my room help me make a decision that I knew I needed to be made.

I’m going to break up with him.

I’m not going to get hurt again.

It’s been a fun couple of months of dating, but it’s for the best to end things now.

He would be leaving in a couple more weeks to go to school out of State, which gives an easy back door for him to walk out of. And I’ll be holding the door open for him when he does. No need to stay with the sick girl.

“Hey can we go to my bedroom to talk?”

“What for?”

He takes a slow breath, his vision fixed solely on my eyes. I can see a small crease between his eyebrows. He opens his mouth a little, closes it, and then slowly says “But Kodi, I love you.”

The wind escapes my lungs. Suddenly there’s not enough air in the room, possibly the planet.

LOVE?? We haven’t even said the ‘L-word’ to each other. No, he’s just sad and feels bad for me. This can’t be real.

“I’m sorry” I barely whisper, “I still think it’s best we break up.”

He nods, turns, opens the door, and looks back. I’m splitting in half inside. My mind can’t marry the two ideas of being SICK and LOVED. I don’t let any part of the raging sea inside of me cross my face. I can’t, because deep down I believe my decision is sound, even if it’s painful.

Without saying anything more, he leaves.

Kenyon texts me the next day and suggests we still attend out friends wedding the next week together to not spark any break-up drama on their happy day (both the bride and groom were a part of our friend group…it was legitimate). I agree.

Chapter 3

Thankfully after another week of resting at my parent’s house, my body wasn’t constantly twitching and moving unprovoked. Kenyon picks me up for our date and is polite and kind. All the nervous butterflies that were carving tunnels on my insides disappear with his warm smile. No games, so passive aggressiveness, no “you should’ve been grateful I was willing to take you” behavior. Nothing unhealthy, just true gentleman behavior.

We eat dinner, we holds hands, we talk with our friends and “play the part” of boyfriend and girlfriend. It feels as natural as it felt before, except it’s different.

And he must mean it otherwise his behavior tonight would’ve been cold and distant. He must mean it because this feels like the way someone should be treated by someone who loves them, even if that someone does break their heart.

“Would you want to dance with me?”

My insides squeeze with anticipation. I’m not sure if I should trust my gut or…my other gut. One says I should run before I fall for him, the other says I should stay to see this thing through.

He takes my hand and reason is lost on me. The reckless “believe in fairytale sappy love” Kodi shows up and I am putty in his hands. No, worse than putty. I’m that strange cornstarch and water mix that some people call Goblin’s Blood, which feels like a strange solid form of water, but it’s not…do you know what I mean? I am mega watery-weird Goblin’s Blood because I am sliding right out of the Land of Reason and into the river of Who Cares.

A Thousand Years is playing while he leads me around the dance floor (I know it’s a cheesy song, but in The Moment, it casts quite a spell). The Box is screaming that I’m making a Mistake. He presses his forehead to mine and I. Want.

I want whatever love this can be. Even if it burns out in a fiery crash and he hates me in the end, I Want what it could be for a while…even if for a moment I can prove to The Box that I can be sick and loved.

You should be warned of a few triggers going forward. They are: physical abuse, sexual abuse, mild ideation, cPTSD and Stockholm Syndrome. I won’t go into great detail about any of them for my own sanity, but I want to be somewhat transparent since it is a very real part of our story and chronic illness and how we ended up married.

Chapter 4

Living with my parents for three weeks reminds me of why I moved out in the first place. And it’s not “teenage drama” that makes me want to leave…it’s very complicated family dynamics that I am not willing to live with again. So, very unwell body and all, I head back up North to start my next semester of classes.

Kenyon moves out of State to finish his last semester of school and we decide we will attempt to continue dating long-distance.

Kenyon isn’t around anymore to help and I don’t know how to ask others how to help. I feel quite alone in my struggle.

Only one day in that entire semester can I truly say that I felt seen.

A gentleman I met at church ,who was studying to become a Podiatrist, finds me in the lobby one day in a good amount of pain. He rolls up to me in his wheelchair. I know his story – he had recently become paralyzed due to a cycling accident. He looks at me and says “Hard to get up some mornings, huh.” I cried. He knew. Rest in peace, friend.

Taking notes in class becomes impossible. My hands are curled in so often, and writing only makes it worse. I give up trying to take notes.

I was especially upset one day at this change in ability while attending my Exercise Physiology class.

I stare at my twisted knuckles with confusion and anger. Walking to class had been a real chore, and now I was spending the hour in a lot of pain. I have no idea how to help my body. I don’t understand what’s going on and why so much changed so quickly. I have no idea which doctor to go to because the ER keeps sending me home with reports of “menstrual cramps” and “anxiety/hyperventilation”.

Like lightning slicing through the dark, my brain tunes into the lecture just as my professor is saying “If you don’t know the answer to a question on a physiology test, just write oxygen. It’s usually oxygen. The body cannot function without it.”

(Note: I understand that concentrated oxygen is meant to be prescribed. I took this risk on my own account but would not recommend doing anything unless your doctor prescribes it. It took 10 years before I ever received an official prescription.)

With my new little oxygen Buddy, Steve, I am able to shuffle around my house and school better. Every time I have to wait for Steve to be refilled on my little at-home concentrator, I lay in bed writhing in pain. (Honestly, as I’m writing this, I realize how insane I sound to still go to school like this. Two years prior to this moment, I went to school with temporary amnesia because of my previous head injury . I just REALLY wanted an Exercise Science degree. It was my dream and I didn’t want to give up on my dream.)

I have to drop the job at the farm…for what I hope is obvious reasons. I walk into an interview at a local gym with oxygen on my face and say “I know it doesn’t look like I’m into this, but I’m really into this.” Gratefully and thankfully, I am hired on the spot.

I Skype Kenyon every day and spend as much time together as we can, Skyping for hours while doing our homework. We have a great time talking, but my life is changing quickly and I had no idea what that means for…anything, really.

During our hours of talking over video, Kenyon is always so kind, and polite and funny. I love Skyping him, but I am growing confused as to why I still feel lonely. Kenyon has always had great health and so does all of his family so there a strong lack of “getting it” when I explain my days and its challenges. I convince myself that I should just mask what’s happening, that it will be better for both of us, but the loneliness only grows.

Weeks of this level of communication led to me thinking that no one cared. I didn’t want to die, but I would have welcomed a fatal car crash. I wasn’t doing well mentally and just wanted Someone to notice the pain I was in. There was one friend who did.

Kenyon and I were actually often a trio. Another guy friend (I’ll call him Jason) was a comfort to see out and about. He would notice me struggling and would often help me out. This new “normal” I was experiencing was such an acute and extreme change, I was hungry for someone who “got it”, or at least someone who would look at me like they understood what level of pain I was in, like Jason did.

The other truth is that Kenyon didn’t know how to ask how I was. He didn’t know how to bring up the tough topics. He wondered if there was more to the story than I was giving, but instead of inviting those conversations, he took me at my word and went on with his normal college activities, believing I was doing the same.

Jason was around. Jason would ask. Jason would help me out, and I got confused about my feelings. I was never cheater, and didn’t want to break Kenyon’s heart that way, but I couldn’t help wondering if Jason would be a better fit in my life.

The Box told me he would be.

The Box told me that Kenyon didn’t ask about my problems because deep down he was still just pity-dating me.

I believed The Box.

Chapter 5

I decide that I should wait to break up with him until after Christmas. We exchange gifts and spend a few hours of the day together. Once the holiday is over, I begin to pull away from this really sweet boy. He still smiles at me, he still helps me with my oxygen and wheelchair, but I don’t feel connected to him anymore. I am such a different person now in just 4 short months due to this extreme change in my body and I am DESPERATE for something I can’t put a finger on, but I believe Jason can be that fit.

Trauma changes people. I didn’t have the tools to bridge the gap that had formed between Kenyon and I. I didn’t know how to communicate the changes within me. I am not sure he was even aware of this shift in our relationship because only one of us was “going through it”.

I didn’t want Kenyon to miss me. I didn’t want to leave room for him to come back around again. I wanted him to hate me so he would move on. The last time I broke up with him, he told me he loved me. I figured the best plan of action was to push him away hard, so I purposely chose to break up with him on January 5th; the same date we had first met the year before in 2015.

Before you accuse me of spite, it wasn’t. I was resigned to the idea that being with me was “too much” and I wanted to let him go so he could go find someone he’d be better suited with. I wanted it to be a permanent, clean cut. No room for “I love you” sentiments to get me to change my mind.

He comes over in the late afternoon because I say I want to talk. We exchange a quick hug and I dive right in. I tell him I don’t want to hold him back anymore from finding someone better suited for him. I tell him that I know that doing the “sick thing” requires a lot and I would rather do it on my own than wait and hope for someone to help me. I tell him that it is for the better for the both of us if we go our separate ways before staying together becomes even more complicated.

“Okay…but may I spend the rest of the evening with you before we say goodbye?”

Dangit. He stumps me again. Why isn’t he mad? Why doesn’t he leave? WHAT IS THIS? (love y’all…it was love. I had never experienced it before and it felt weird.)

“Um, I guess…” What am I supposed to say? I already feel like a jerk. Is there really any harm in spending a few more hours together?

We sit close and talk. Not about our problems, not about my decision to end our relationship, just casual chatter. My insides feel like fire worms. It all feels like I am making a huge mistake, but how can I be? He is sweet, but I don’t feel like we relate anymore. I am going through so many changes, this illness is changing every facet of me, and I want something that feels more…normal? I am uncomfortable staying and that is all that I can identify.

At the end of the evening, Kenyon says goodbye. He stands in the doorway one more time and looks back before closing the door. I turn around and sit on the edge of my bed, deflated and defeated.

Chapter 6

The next week Jason texts me wondering what Kenyon and I are doing for the day? I tell him we have broken up. He asks me to dinner. I say yes.

Jason feels normal. Jason feels exactly where I need to be. When we dine at Red Lobster that night, I feel like I have made the right choice about letting go of Kenyon.

I still have my gym job and every morning I get up at 4am to workout with my oxygen tank on. Jason tells me I have a rocking body. That even with my oxygen, I am very attractive. I feel elated to still be considered pretty, even with all the changes my life has made. He comments how my backside could use a little work. I tell him it’s difficult to do glute work due to my lower back fusion. He purses his lips.

I begin adding more glute work to my regimen despite the pain. He seems happier.

I learned that Jason likes vanilla Oreos and lemonade. Sometimes I surprise him with a little treat for fun because it makes him smile and give me extra kisses. One day I pick up a little treat for him at the store and text to see if he wants to hang out so I can give it to him as a surprise. He says he’s really busy due to work and can’t see me that day.

I’ll just surprise him and drop it off at his apartment doorstep – a good ‘ole ding-dong ditch! A treat he can enjoy after a long day at work.

I have never been to his apartment because he lives in the next town over, but I am up for a little drive to drop off his snacks before my shift starts at work. I place the grocery bag of treats on his door mat, knock on his door, and drive away full of excited glee.

Jason’s text: Got your treat, call me when your shift ends

I am bouncing on my toes in happy anticipation. As soon as the last member leaves the gym, I grab the broom and dial his number.

He answers quickly and speaks in a low, slow voice. “What the he** were you thinking.”

I stop sweeping. “What do you mean?” My stomach sinks.

“Why do you think it’s ok to show up to my apartment unannounced?”

I know I’m in trouble but I don’t understand why. I want to sound sure of myself, but I’m suddenly having a difficult time finding my words due to the pit in my chest. “I…I wanted to surprise you.”

“Don’t you EVER DO #%@&*(….”

The phone call ends about 20 minutes later. In that time my knees grew so weak and that I sat on the floor along the wall. The light sensor in the gym hasn’t read movement in a while so the lights shut off. In the dark, alone, I have a good cry.

I decide to never bring him another treat so he remains happier.

Chapter 7

Kodi text (days later): Come over this evening! I want to make you dinner.

We have a great time in the kitchen talking and laughing. He asks me about my health and my day and I feel seen. I want to make up for making him upset the other day by making him a nice homemade dinner. I begin dancing and laughing and being super silly while getting everything prepped.

“You know, sometimes you’re kind of annoying.” I stuck my tongue out at him. He kicks me.

I serve him his dinner quietly so he is happier.

This behavior became progressively worse. He would be extra sweet and really invested in my life and then harm me if I wasn’t behaving the way he wanted. In all my other dating experiences I had always had firm boundaries about my body because I wanted to save myself for marriage, but that idea drove him mad and there wasn’t much I could do to protect myself while I was having a seizure. I grew fearful of him and began giving him more of what he wanted to stop the abuse.

The Box told me this is what I deserved because “no good man would ever want me sick and disabled.”

I feel I should explain what that is before explaining the rest of the story. Stockholm Syndrome is a psychological response where victims in a captive or abusive situation develop positive feelings, empathy or loyalty towards their captors or abusers as a survival mechanism, often exhibiting distrust of authorities and defending their abusers.

It is a startling psychological trap.

No one deserves abuse. For any reason. And that especially includes anyone with a chronic illness who believes they are not good enough or worthy enough of a kind and caring relationship. If you’re stuck in a relationship like this, here’s your sign to get out. Please.

I was threatened by Jason to never let Kenyon know that we were dating. Our dating was entirely in secret. All the pain I was carrying was in secret. “What about telling your family”, you may ask? Where do you think I first learned mistreatment? During this relationship my mom saw the Texas size bruise on my leg from where Jason had kicked me, and when she asked what it was from, I told her the truth. She laughed and said I probably deserved it.

When Kenyon eventually did figure out that Jason and I were secretly dating, he asked me to go on a walk to talk. I wasn’t afraid of Kenyon finding out, I was afraid of Jason finding out that Kenyon knew.

Kenyon and I begin our small walk to talk. I can tell he’s upset.

“Why are you dating him?”

I fold my arms “Because I want to.”

“Kodi, what is wrong with you…you deserve better.”

(Kenyon didn’t even know what was going on and could figure that one out.)

“I’m happy where I am. He’s really great to me. I really like being with him.” And because of the Stockholm Syndrome, I really believe this statement.

What surprised me was that Kenyon never got upset when I broke up with him (both times..), but he definitely got upset that day. Gosh, that whole week.

Honestly what shook me out of The Syndrome for a moment was his reaction to finding out that Jason and I were dating. He locked himself in his apartment and didn’t come out for days. I didn’t understand. Wasn’t he supposed to be grateful that I wasn’t his problem? We broke up months ago, hasn’t he moved on?

I feel weird that he is so upset. I have heard that he is hardly eating and I don’t want to be the cause of pain again (it’s a problem for me…) so I take a major risk and ding-dong ditch some Subway at his door.

Days later he shows up to my work with puffy red eyes and a box of my things he still has. He asks me to explain why I am with Jason and why I decided to keep it all a secret. He wants to know why I was able to move on so quickly, and lets me know that he hasn’t. Eventually he goes to tell me that he feels that Jason is not a good fit; a switch goes off in my head and I get defensive all over again.

At this point, Jason knows that Kenyon knows that him and I are together. I am defending our “super great relationship” and where is he? Apparently too busy every day to see me.

Which was honestly for the best. It’s just that I believed that now that our relationship was Out There in the Open, he would have my back. He would defend me. He would know how loyal I was to him.

Stockholm Syndrome is a scary place to be.

Kenyon and I continue to cross paths and he soon recognizes something is off. Still having no clue of the abuse, he knows that I am not behaving myself. After my last “blow up” that mine and Jason’s relationship is great, he does not try to bring up the subject, but can’t figure out what has caused this change.

Everything becomes very obvious one day when I call him panicking. Jason hasn’t talked to me for a while and I don’t know who else to call with snot and tears running down my chin.

“I can’t go inside my house.”

“Why not?” He asked.

“I DONT KNOW…I just Can’t..” *hyperventilating noises.

“Kodi, what do you need?”

“I DONT KNOW. I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’ve been panicking in my car for three hours. I don’t know what’s going on…”

“I’ll be right there.”

He drives over immediately. I am hysterical. He picks me up, puts me in his truck and drives me to Sonic for ice cream. No words are exchanged. It’s not the time and I appreciate the space he is giving me while also making sure I am safe.

The truth was, all the abuse lived in that house and without Jason around, I didn’t know how to function in there anymore.

Chapter 8

I still haven’t heard from Jason and I am now horribly afraid of what his reaction will be if I see him again. I figure he’s just lying in wait to hurt me since Kenyon now knows about our relationship. I drum up scenarios about the confrontation over and over and try to develop many pleading cases. It’s my hope he’ll believe me, but it’s my fear he won’t.

Days have gone by since my panic attack and Kenyon wants to know what is going on, wants to understand why I seemingly grow more anxious every day.

I am a dam holding back the raging dark waters of self-loathing. I believe that all that has happened to me is my fault.

In some moments of enlightenment I realize that what Jason has done to me is not okay, but I am also unable to let our relationship go.

Kenyon begins asking questions and I keep avoiding them because I don’t want Kenyon to be disgusted about what has happened to me. I wish for the floor to crack open so I can disappear from his inquisitive and intense stare.

Eventually his questions cause my dam to crack. I can’t hold it in anymore. I confess it all. Every last horror. The poison leeches from my system, right off my tongue. I watch his face contort. I wait for him to throw me out. To tell me that I am the scum I believe I am. To raise his eyebrows, shake his head and remind me that I deserve all that has happened to me.

But instead, I watch him cry.

He has stumped me again.

I have no idea why he is crying. The Box says it is because he is ashamed of me.

“Why are you crying?” I ask.

“Don’t you get it?”

“…I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Because I still love you. And he hurt you.”

Days later, Kenyon helps me draft a text to break up with Jason. I can’t bring myself to send it although I trust Kenyon that it is the right choice. He sits with me through the waves of panic until I can independently send Jason a text saying I want to be done.

Maybe this sounds like victory for Kenyon. “Yeah! Of course he’d help send that text, he gets his girl back!” but In The Moment there wasn’t any thought that we would get back together. In this moment, it was truly a friend helping a friend get out of a bad situation.

I owe Kenyon my life and forever will. Had he rejected me in my lowest moment of confessing what that relationship was actually like, I would have been lost to the world forever. I’m not trying to be dramatic. My self-esteem was utterly destroyed.

My physical health falling apart was one thing. My mental health falling apart was another.

Recovery from that relationship was a long road. I was safer now, but my body couldn’t tell the difference. Anytime Kenyon would try to touch me, panic would climb back up my throat. It was confusing because I knew Kenyon would never harm me, but my body couldn’t figure out what to trust.

I fall in love right there. Right there is when I knew I really love him back. I don’t know how long he’ll stay, but I know I will never again force him to leave. I silently pray he’ll stay with me for a very long time.

My health continues to be a struggle, but it seems to have plateaued for the time being. Doctors are lost, the ER is useless, specialists send me to more specialists, and my bills are really beginning to stack up. I try several medications, but I can’t find anything to help my symptoms outside of my oxygen tank.

Kenyon takes me on dates and spends any spare minutes with me. I don’t know how to share all the hurt, but I feel safe around him. I don’t know how to share all my thoughts about my health, but I’m beginning to try. We build our trust little by little and Kenyon remains patient while I recover mentally.

Chapter 9

“Hey my brother wants to go on a hike for his birthday today, do you want to go?” It was early in the morning but I have enough brain power to know that Kenyon’s brother doesn’t care much for hiking. I used to hike all the time, and Kenyon knew I was missing the mountains, but why would his brother want to go for a hike…

WAIT.

Am I getting proposed to today??

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk super far, but I would love to go!”

“It’s not very difficult, I think you can make it, I’ll pick you up in an hour!”

I straighten my hair, put some make-up on (ya know, hiking stuff) and wear my favorite gym outfit.

The weather is sunny and warm at Horsetooth Falls. I am trying to act nonchalant about my potential proposal, but my insides are a flurry of butterflies. We make it to the “falls”, but it has been a dry Summer and the water is barely a trickle. I watch Kenyon’s expression as his head swivels from side-to-side and says “Ya know, lets go a little further, the view looks like it would be beautiful up there.”

Oh yeah, I’m definitely getting proposed to. eeeeeeee!!

A little further up we can see a wide view of the valley. Kenyon hands his fancy camera to his brother so we can grab a picture together. My stomach is in so many knots and yet at the same time, I’ve never felt more sure of anything in my life. “The camera doesn’t have a memory card!” His brother shouts. “Dangit..” I hear Kenyon say under his breath. “Here, use my phone” (He was so nervous, poor guy.)

“Kodi Norton, will you marry me?” I pause to soak in the moment; to linger between girlfriend and fiancé before I say “Yes. Yes yes yes!” and cover him in kisses.

We’re engaged and I am in total shock and pure joy.

My legs began to act up and I couldn’t make it off the mountain, so Kenyon and his brother had to help carry me down the hill. My poor health couldn’t dampen my mood because I knew that Kenyon wanted to give me the proposal of my dreams not matter what. I was so happy to be engaged, who cared about fully functioning legs?? Not me!

Our marriage is a quick ordeal. We don’t have much money, our Fathers don’t have much, and we don’t really care to go into debt for a wedding. We have a back yard ceremony with our closest friends and family after only 12 weeks because we didn’t want to wait any longer.