I’ve had an interesting relationship with my body (and life) this past year. A year ago today, I was having to accept that my second spider bite was turning into my third serious infection. It’d been a challenging couple of months already, but the timing of this latest infection threw my life into more chaos than the other two had. At the tail end of my time in New Zealand, I was realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to hitchhike through the country in a final three-week hurrah. I would soon realize I wouldn’t be able to travel on to South East Asia either. My body, after four rounds of antibiotics and three emergences of cellulitis, simply couldn’t take it.
When I ended up moving to Colorado to recover instead, I struggled with feeling like my body had failed me. Continue reading