When I say I’m tired of being sick
I’m talking about more then headaches
And the slipping of my joints.
The appointments with judgmental doctors…
Normal tests and the same labs as always,
But gotta run them again, just to check…
Fatigue so deep that it seeps down,
Down into the bones and settles into the marrow…
Staring out the window and knowing that outdoors isn’t for you;
After all, there’s pollen and sunshine waiting to attack
Standing in a group of people but still all alone,
Just wishing there was someone to relate to.
Just tired of this prison of flesh
Feeling that I’ve had my turn
Pretty sure I’ve paid everything I owed.
Yet, here I am again:
Donning the special gown
And waiting for my medical date
In another hospital.
You wonder why I feel
Continue reading “121421-1508”
that I take up too much space.
Yet, I do not. All I need to do is recall.
Sit still, so they can rest.
Be quiet, so they can hear.
Lower your energy
so they can handle you.
I am not the person you see
as I am living here behind my mask.
You have taught me
that be who I am isn’t safe.
You taught me this with your words,
with the way you’ve shunned me.
You taught me this when you laughed
and made fun of me for being different.
The teacher lied to me,
when she said that words could never hurt me.
Sticks and stones break my bones
and the words cut something deeper.
When you told me, I wasn’t good enough, I believed you.
When you told me, I was lazy, I believed you.
These words you gave me,
became part of who I am.
What is said, is done.
You can never take them back.
And now I live here, behind my mask.
This thing, that you call me,
doesn’t change who I am,
yet it defines me,
This name, this diagnosis,
that you gave me.
The name didn’t make me this way,
yet it shapes everything around me.
The stigma for this label,
marking every social interaction
and limiting the choices I can make.
It is too much to get up today
The pain completely overwhelms me
There is nothing left
My cup is empty
But, I must get up
I must face the pain
If there is no courage
There will be nothing
My cup is empty
But filling it requires Courage
You broke me
and I’m tired of you judging me
for the scars you gave me.
There are things that must be captured;
reeled in like giant, angry fish
screaming out bloodied protests.
Things we never want to take in.
Yet they make us
so much more complete
then the things of glitter, lace and fluff.
Broken, scattered pieces
Laying strewn across the floor
Something missing and lost forever
I cannot no longer see my future
Or the person I was becoming
Now, I’m undone and something else
I am this diagnosis
This label that owns me
Stealing everything I imagined I’d become
And rewriting me without my consent
As my body cracks and crumbles
My hope turns to dust
Leaving me here to stare at my mortality in the mirror
It could be worse
But I wish it was something better
Branding me, scarring me, breaking me
In all the places you cannot see
I walk through the crowd
A spector of suffering unrecognized
Looking the same as those around me
And I wonder if they feel the same
Bitter, iron bars caging around me
Biting down into my bones
Seeping into the fundamental programming
Forever altering who I am
I clutch upon the thing with feathers
That perches precariously in my soul
I wish I could hear it sing
Letting the little bird go
I watch it fly away, fly away
And with a fragile voice
Begin to sing
Be like the tree.
Set your feet firmly upon the ground
so that you might have a solid foundation to build yourself.
Reach your arms up to the sky
so that you may be inspired by the sun.
Drink of the inner waters and of the sunlight
so that you may know joy.
Feel the winds of the world around you
so that you might free you soul.
And like the tree,
know the eternal satisfaction
in the simple state of being within the now.