We are happy to share yet another submission from our 2025 WGI Invite to Write Challenge!
Last summer, we asked our talented cohorts to create a piece on this prompt: Write a story where the end is also the beginning.
Next up, we are sharing Karin Persson’s piece entitled, “Before, During, and After – Three Moments in My Life.” She participated in our workshops with #MEAction Network all the way from Sweden, and this is her first piece as a new writer!
Stay tuned, as we will continue posting the submissions throughout the winter!
Before, During, and After – Three Moments in My Life
2019 The Mountain
I’m so close now, just a few more steps. I can feel the sweat running down my forehead, the crisp wind carrying it on its way. My heart beats fast in my chest, and my breath is shallow, both from the effort it has taken to get all the way up here and from being at this altitude where the air is much thinner.
With the growing excitement, I momentarily take my focus off the ground, which my eyes have been fixed on for the last couple of hours and I stumble on a loose rock. Immediately, my Sherpa, who has guided and cheered me on since the first day of this adventure, is there beside me. He instinctively reaches out a helping hand to steady me, and my balance is restored. I take the final little step—and I’m there. I’m at the top.
The view is breathtaking. The endless sky above me and the snow-covered mountains below, partly obscured by light clouds, stretch all the way to the horizon in every direction. It’s a vastness I have never experienced before. At the same time as it makes me feel tiny and insignificant, it also makes me feel boundless and whole, like I’m one with everything that surrounds me. I glance over at my two hiking companions and I can tell by the look in their eyes that they are experiencing the same thing. At that very moment, I understand why they keep coming back to this place time and again—and I know, without a doubt, that one day I will too.
As I sit down on a rock near the edge and gaze at the surroundings, a thousand feelings bubble up inside me. Overwhelmed by it all, I feel a tear fall down my cheek, not a tear of sadness, but of joy and happiness. I take a deep breath and relax my shoulders. While taking in the moment, a profound sense of serenity washes over me. I feel grounded, like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be—as if there is no tomorrow; there is only here and now.
2023 The Illness
I don’t know how many days it has been since the crash started this time—maybe five, or is it six? I’m not sure. This morning, that familiar ”my whole body is aching and I weigh a ton” feeling returned, still lingering. It’s as if, instead of a painkiller, I’ve been given a pain-and fatigue pill, which substance has made its way into every single cell in my body and started a war—and all I can do is endure it and wait for it to be over.
I open my eyes for a while; all the lights in my apartment are off, but a little sunbeam is making its way through a small opening in the curtains, landing on the seat of my wheelchair across the room. Even though I’m longing for fresh air, all the windows remain closed since I’m too exhausted to rise from the sofa and open them. Even if I did have the strength, the distant sound of passing trains would be too much noise for me to handle anyway.
My mouth is dry, so I reach for the water bottle on the wooden sofa table right next to me and take a sip, still perplexed by the fact that such a small movement can require so much energy and effort.
Once again, I close my eyes, relieved by the removal of one source of sensory input. Thoughts immediately start spinning in my head, as they have so many times before. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to live like this. How did I end up here? Not end up crashing again—I lost count of those a long time ago—but end up being so ill—for years?! I can’t
even remember what it feels like to be well anymore. Surely I must have hit rock bottom by now and be on my way to recovery? But what if I never…
No! Stop! My eyes fill with tears, and my chest tightens, as though a heavy weight were pressing down on it. I won’t go down that spiral of thoughts again, not today. Okay, back to the breath: breathe in, breathe out; the mantra goes on, over and over in my mind. Just one breath at a time, and I will make it through this day too. Tomorrow… Tomorrow will be better.
Please let it be better!
2027 The Future
The room is buzzing with activity. With a smile on my face, I gaze into the fireplace, take a sip of the traditional honey, ginger, and lemon tea, and feel it warming me from the inside.
But it’s not the fire or the tea, nor the atmosphere, that warms my body and soul the most. It’s gratitude. Gratitude for being here. Gratitude for being able to sit upright on a bench without support for my head or back. Gratitude for being able to socialize and be in a room full of people and sounds and not be completely wiped out by any of it.
From the outside, looking in, this might seem like a perfectly normal situation. But not for me. I’ve been on the other side. I have experienced what it’s like when even the simplest things you take for granted are taken away from you, when even the smallest movement or the utterance of a single sentence feels debilitating. For me, being able to sit here in this room, on the other side of the planet, is nothing short of a miracle—pure bliss.
It is getting late, and I’ve yawned twice already—not because I’m exhausted, but simply tired like everyone else, after a long, eventful day. I say good night to my friends and head towards my room at the far end of the corridor. On the way, I’m reminded of how incredible it is to be able to move so effortlessly, without the need for a single break along the way.
Back in my room, I once again make sure that everything is prepared. I double-check my backpack and put an extra power bar in the top pocket, just in case.
I’m ready.
A slight shiver ripples through my body, both with excitement and because of being far from the fireplace. The wooden walls in the teahouse are thin, and during the night, the temperature outside can drop far below zero. I quickly crawl into the warmth of my midnight-blue sleeping bag and turn off the light.
Tomorrow, I climb the mountain.
