13/9/24 A physical Shut Down Before My Birthday

This past year, the world around me seemed caught in a constant cycle of illness—dengue, COVID, seasonal flu… yet I somehow managed to remain untouched. I always felt like my body was a quiet protector, steadfast in its care no matter how the world outside shifted. Even on the rare occasions when I didn’t feel quite right, a day or two of rest, self-care, and love was all it took to bounce back.

But this time was different. On the night of August 31st, I felt my body growing cold, and my head throbbed with pain. The next morning, I prepared a nourishing meal and cancelled a planned Asado to rest at home. By the afternoon, I felt much better and even went out to enjoy coffee at my favourite café. I remember feeling incredibly fortunate—grateful for my body’s resilience and the simple joy of sipping coffee.

But after that day, something strange lingered. The headache persisted, along with eye discomfort and dizziness. With no other clear symptoms, I thought it was PMS, as my period had been late, and headaches were often part of that. But deep down, I suspected something else—perhaps eye pressure? High blood pressure? How could that be? I quickly scheduled an eye appointment. The doctor reassured me that my eyes were healthy, despite some nerve pressure. He suggested seeing an ENT specialist, suspecting sinusitis.

That day, however, I was utterly exhausted. From the moment I woke up, the day had been filled with therapy, work, study, and endless errands. After the eye checkup, every muscle in my body ached, my eyelids felt heavy, and all I wanted was to collapse into bed. I ordered some food, but after eating, I barely made it to bed before falling into a deep sleep.

In the middle of the night, the illness came crashing down. I woke up suddenly, chilled to the bone, my head throbbing. I realized I had a high fever. My nose was completely blocked, and my breathing became painful. My sinuses and eyes were swollen, with constant pressure beneath the skin. Each blink and breath brought a dull, aching pain. The worst was my throat—dry and raw, every swallow felt like sharp gravel. Sleep was impossible. All I could do was toss and turn, trapped in a haze of discomfort.

The next day, Vira accompanied me to the hospital. Sil and Adrian offered their recovery advice, and Lau brought over medicine, fever relief, and Lola’s homemade bone broth. Their care wrapped around me like a warm blanket. As I waited for Vira, I stopped at a newly opened bakery to buy her two freshly baked cookies. I had no appetite, but I wanted to show my appreciation. Feverish and weak, I dozed off in the car on the way to the hospital. Things went smoothly at the hospital. While waiting to see the doctor, a quiet voice inside me said, “Shikin, this is your chance to see things. You need to pay attention to what drains your energy and step away from it. Your body is giving you a warning—it’s time to wake up.”

Indeed, the past few months had felt overwhelming. The anxiety about leaving Argentina, the sadness of parting with friends and family—it all weighed on me. Gradually, I stopped exercising, which had always been the simplest source of joy. I also began to realize that whether in romantic relationships or friendships, I often suppressed my own needs to maintain harmony. I was offering emotional labour that didn’t come from a genuine place but from an inexplicable sense of guilt.

Slowly, I’ve come to understand that not all relationships deserve my time or energy. I had been sincere and generous with certain people, and though I don’t regret any of it, I now choose to save that love for myself. I no longer want to accommodate others. BASTA!

That same night, when I returned home with a high fever, my period finally came. While my body was in torment, inside, I felt a strange sense of relief. It felt like I had hit rock bottom, and from here, things could only get better. Even my dreams seemed to sweep away the dust from my mind, clearing out old memories.

This illness led to a deep conversation with my parents. To my surprise, they didn’t react with their usual defensiveness. Instead, they opened up, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly heard. It was the most precious birthday gift I could have asked for this year. I love them deeply, and I’m learning how to love without repeating the toxic patterns my body once absorbed (what my limbic system learnt), while still maintaining healthy boundaries. This conversation doesn’t mean that everything is magically fixed, but it has given us a space for more honest communication—one based on understanding and respect.

This year, I’ve also come to realize that many of my past relationships and romances reflected my desire to escape my original family and create a new one. But now I see that my home doesn’t depend on having "a partner". My home is myself, and it’s made up of the things I love—exploring, creating, thinking, dancing, and learning. The people I care about are my family, whether from my original family or the one I’ve chosen.

The other day, after a particularly emotional conversation with my parents, I broke down. Later, I video-called Yining, who’s in Vietnam now. She listened to me cry, offering her usual wit and calmness to comfort me. It suddenly struck me that we’ve known each other for five years now. Thinking about how we’ve stayed connected across countries and time zones filled me with gratitude.

Adrian’s advice echoed in my mind: “Ultimately, the past is the past. As long as both sides are growing and communicating, that’s all you can really hope for. True power comes from forgiveness, and the best lessons come from redemption, not guilt. Learning to let go of pain and past difficulties is how real wisdom is gained.”

Dani had once shared a thought with me, too: “We often make excuses for the people we love to keep them in our lives—whether it’s a former lover or an unhealthy friend—because we haven’t fully accepted what’s happening. Every soul has a unique journey, shaped by our choices. The universe guides us based on those choices. Once we realize we have a choice, life stops ‘happening to us’ and becomes something we actively experience and create.”

This morning, I woke up thinking about Nara’s question regarding my "flowing" nature. Taoism teaches us to "go with the flow," like water—soft, adaptable, yet capable of cutting through anything. It’s a beautiful concept, but her question made me pause: Is this "flow" a conscious choice, or am I simply drifting?

"Going with the flow" doesn’t mean having no direction. True flow comes from a clear understanding of yourself and a firm inner belief. Water may be shapeless, but it knows where it’s headed, finding its way past obstacles and reaching its destination.

Another year, another September 19th. This time, the illness before my birthday reminded me: I am my home. The things and people I love—they are my family. Everything feels just right. I’m healthy, I’m beautiful, I’m full of love and courage, and I’m embracing life fully, with no lack.

Let’s keep going. I’m ready for Adventure No.28.