Another Day Bites the Dust

Had a rough night. I’ve been running along that knife edge of “okay” and “panic attack” the last few days after the kids and I having been sick the last three weeks. There’s been a lot of bad news this past week and it finally broke me down tonight, full on bawling mode. I’m feeling a little calmer now, I suppose, but it’s hard to watch things going the way they’re going and not be able to physically contribute financially.

I’m just so glad today is over right now. I could not take one more thing going wrong or getting one more piece of bad news today. At least, not without bawling again and that just burns. Literally, my tears burn my skin. Yay auto-immune crap…

The good news is my eldest FINALLY seems to be on the mend.Once we got him started on antibiotics he started coughing up brown and green phlegm even though the doc said his lungs were clear, so…. it seems the antibiotics are clearing his lungs anyways, I guess? It takes a lot to get him down and admit he’s sick so I am so glad he’s feeling better.

Saw the rheumatologist again yesterday, that’s a doctor’s office I always enter with trepidation, it was hopefully good news and the results will hopefully not have ridiculous side effects like the last time.

I cried through another counseling appointment today, too. I guess I finally connected the dots on why this diagnosis/existence has been so hard for me to come to terms with. Anyone who has heard about my past knows there is a lot of heartache between my mother and I. Well, the mother she chose to be is the mother I feel like my body is forcing me to be and every mental and spiritual fiber of my being has been bucking this new existence of mine as unacceptable because of that, until now, subconscious correlation. I didn’t even realize it until several hours after it had come out of my mouth and then… there it was, it all suddenly made so much sense.

The counselor made a great analogy about my mind and my emotions. I’m like a kitchen sink. When you stack too many dishes in the sink you can’t run any water to get things clean without it spilling out all over. My emotions are the water and the dishes are all of the things I am having to deal with in my life. Dishes… of course, DISHES would make utter sense in my head. It’s a sad sort of hilarity.

Overall it really was a pretty good day. It was just the compounding of bad news and typical life crap that hit all at once right at the end of it. As determined as my kids are to send me to an early grave, I love them and can’t wait to look back and laugh at their antics one day. Like their father was laughing about them tonight from way far away.

I’m going to be okay. I know that. It’s hard to believe it sometimes, but I will be. I pushed myself my whole life so that I would be enough, so that “it” (whatever it was) wouldn’t be my fault so that I would always be the best me I could be and always keep improving upon myself to be better. My body seems to be telling me I pushed too far for too long.

Battle fatigue, I suppose. Yeah, that’s what I’ll call it. That sounds so much more valiant than what the doctors call it all.
I’m not sick, I’m recovering from battle.
Yeah, I like that better.

Golden Lessons

The topic of assisted suicide came up in an episode of Golden Girls I’m watching tonight. I’ve always been on the fence about assisted suicide for people who are in uncontrollable, unending pain or other slow death.

Now that I’m a member of that “incurable chronic pain” statistic it makes me think about it a little more when prompted. The lesson in the show was to be there for those  who need you so they don’t feel the need to off themselves. 

Still, what about those who are walking through a tunnel without a light at the end? Maybe I was a morbid child, but being sick so often I always thought I’d die young from an illness but, if I had my choice, I’d want to die in a way that was making a difference to the world.
Here I am… older than I ever thought I would be, with even more things wrong with me than when I was a child.

And now I have kids of my own… and even with the pain I’m always in, even though it would be so much easier to just let go, i can’t beat the thought of leaving my children. No child should have to grow up without a parent.

I suppose it comes back to the same question that permeates so many decisions: to do what is easy or to do what is right?

The Secret Keeper’s Writing Prompt #85

My first attempt at one of one of The Secret Keeper‘s writing prompts, #85 to be precise. The Challenge Words were: | SCORE | SLEEP | FREE | CALM | ESCAPE |


 

The dream scored the senses into the flesh but the soul still wasn’t sticking. It wanted to be free. It didn’t want to stay in the body. It wanted to escape.

The sensations flared again as another reality seared its way through the mind, snatching at the soul. The body laid calm and still as the soul bucked and shied away.

This world burned. This reality was pain. The soul was too strong to stay tethered to this weak little cage.

But… then… they knew. So they tore it. They took infinity and divided it and pushed the broken bits into the bodies. They sewed the tattered edges into the mind and pinned it down through the veins.

Now you know why something is missing. They took you from yourself.

But because you are still you, if you find the rest of you, then you’re even more you than you were before.

Just Me, Tonight

I don’t want to be a patient tonight. I don’t want to be stuck in this body that feels like it’s drawn too tight over a soul that is breaking from the pressure of its own existence. I don’t want to take the medication, I don’t want to feel the pain, the half-asleep nerve endings, the creepy-crawling feeling under my skin that never goes away.

Living in my body is akin to feeling all the worst scenes of every horror movie you’ve ever watched all at once, whether it was being burned alive, having spiders or insects crawling all over your, losing your extremities because the circulation has been cut off, even having sirens blaring in your ears so loud you can’t sleep, think, or even breathe, where you’re bombarded with sounds so loud you can feel them vibrating along your skin and down into your bones. To watch yourself slowly going insane as pieces of your mind are stripped away.

This is me. Everyday. This is what it’s like being in my body at any and every moment.

Tonight, I just want to be me, not the me I am now, but the me I used to be. The one who could sit down and write to the rhythm of the rain. Though I suppose even then I should have known, I suppose it’s not normal to feel the rain thrumming against the inside of your eyelids, feel the drops hitting the keyboard through your fingers. Still, it was a wonderous feeling before it became too much, I suppose.

The price of playing with our souls, I suppose.

From Tethered to Tattered

Souls were meant to travel
To permeate each other
ebb and flow
to soothe into one another
and withdraw like the dew

Yet they are constrained
pushed into this world
caged inside flesh
Tortured by glimpses
of infinity in a moment
and eternity beyond touch

So, what happens
to the soul that escapes
Who shredded its tethers
and flows in and out
of itself and others

What of the body
left behind soulless
during dream time
with connections awry
the cage splayed open
Empty with soul absent

Or of the reunion
And the soul returns
and the body reawakens
when the soul no longer fits
and the cage is weakened

How long can a soul stay
in a cage it hates
when it’s felt freedom
and the touch of life
true as from the source

The shell never fit
A body ever left wanting
Captive of in-between
Undecided
on staying or leaving

So it leaves just once more
and then returns
Ambiguos
Searches again for clarity
Tearing the strands
of body and soul
ever more
and more
Forever more
one last time