![](https://images.ecency.com/DQmTQS3mnxC6gQQ3EZuqEejN1ga77E9nq8huxAt8fHfL2dX/image.png)





[Image Source](https://sdmntpritalynorth.oaiusercontent.com/files/00000000-bf94-6246-9858-5d1c6176ea13/raw?se=2025-04-15T10%3A08%3A29Z&sp=r&sv=2024-08-04&sr=b&scid=72ee5fa2-0c67-5ddb-9d0f-690a2721ccc7&skoid=59d06260-d7df-416c-92f4-051f0b47c607&sktid=a48cca56-e6da-484e-a814-9c849652bcb3&skt=2025-04-15T06%3A02%3A01Z&ske=2025-04-16T06%3A02%3A01Z&sks=b&skv=2024-08-04&sig=x9IXe%2BJl2OdPoOA8xP9uGHXNmSTjFfwweCw/%2BX8P9kg%3D)
To be in motion is to continually change. Motion is the change in position with time. But I was motionless. I lay on the bed, overshadowed by memories. I was in deep pain. I was also paralyzed.

They told me to take every step with patience. "The drug will soon wear off," they said. My sweet sister had prepared a jar full of bitter herbal tea for me. With each sip, I felt a bit of strength returning. My hands twitched, and I felt the need to rise. I wanted to stand up.

“No one has done that before,” they warned. “Wait. Rest. Don’t rush.”

But I said what I felt in my heart, “I can make a difference. I begged to differ.”

Soon, the doctor came in, a stern look on his face. “Take your medication,” he said. “And please, don’t try anything foolish.” I nodded in silence. I wasn’t a fool, far from it, but I had something stronger than fear: determination.

It turns out, I had survived a two-day surgical operation. My body was weak, but my spirit was louder than ever. I began to move, not in defiance, but in belief. Slow, shaky, and steady.

That was the first step. I was in motion again.

Thanks for reading!