I wish I was a bear
Wrapped and warm in fur
Hidden away from winter wear
In sleep I would confer
I find that I am bare
Naked without my faith
Exposed and retreating where
Sleep becomes a wraith
I wish I had a bear
Stuffed full of love and hope
With button eyes so fair
Stable against this tightrope
I have all these wishes
And the warmth of friends that care
Full of love their dishes
My heart beats as the bear
I got the kind of news on thanksgiving day that you keep thinking you’re going to wake up to find it was just a bad dream. Mostly. I knew the possibility of it all. It shouldn’t come as a shock, but when it happens to someone you love very dearly, someone who affects so much of your life, it’s hard to get out of that denial.
Now it colors every aspect of my thoughts and I’m not sure what to write about.
If this was just a diary I would write any drivel that seeps across my addled brain. I’m kind of glad I have an audience…however small. It discourages me from wallowing in my own self pity. It still makes interesting topics difficult however.
So the answer is…write. That’s always the answer. No matter what. Write.
It’s NaNoWriMo time. I’ve attempted this a few times, but 1667 words a day is a bit much. Let’s face it, I can’t even write….words…a day. That sentence doesn’t work because I don’t. I’m my biggest enemy in doing the shit I want to do.
I looked into some NaNoWriMo alternatives, but I’m pretty sure I’ll fuck that up too. So this is my personal alternative:
Stop, drop and write!
I’m going to set an alarm for 6:30pm and try very hard to stick to the plan that no matter what I’m doing, even if I’m fucking my boyfriend, I’m going to stop and write…something…for the next 30 days.
Today you get:
If it Happens to You
People who can’t pull their weight due to an invisible illness are irritating because autoimmune and mental illness issues are bullshit. Are you seeing red or are you going to continue reading?
While I always tried to be sympathetic to friends that bailed on me for reasons that weren’t readily apparent sometimes I got annoyed and thought just that first line. I even suffer from depression. Fuck you I hide in my office when I loose my shit. I’m well aware not everyone has that option. I’m also well aware people have it worse than me. Just sometimes….don’t worry I talk to myself the same way. Pretty sure we all do at some point.
The autoimmune spectrum is a different animal for me. I’ve always been kind of sickly, but I got my ass up and did shit. I got a masters degree in 2 years while working full time. A couple of years ago that changed. I started getting sick and the doctors never could give me a straight answer. Being poked, prodded (nerve reaction tests seriously suck), and fed steroids for months on end did nothing but keep me vaguely functioning. I quit eating gluten on recommendation from a friend and took care of most of my issues. I still:
- Run fevers for no reason
- Have my tonsils swell up and turn white for no reason
- Get fatigued to the point that walking across a room kills me for no reason
- Deal with all the crap that happens when I eat gluten even though I’m constantly told that it is all in my head
So feel free to get annoyed sometimes with that friend who can’t get an actual diagnosis from a doctor or really doesn’t look sick. I won’t judge. It’s hard when you’ve never felt it. Just make
sure you make a concerted effort to continue understanding most of the time, because, trust me, you’re going to need it if it happens to you.
She held her pieces in her hands
The way that only broken can
Looking up with pleading eyes
“Help me make it through the night”
When the last one broke her tether
She put herself back together
Looking in with beauty bold
She painted in the cracks with gold
Learning not to be afraid
Understanding what life has made
She holds herself in her hands
And no one needs to understand
The more broken the pieces
The smaller the moments
In which you live
I want to go back
To easy breaths but still
I would end up here
There’s a thing you do not see
This hurricane inside of me
The few that have been close enough
Have known the angry swirl above
That’s just the edge, just the tip
Of the rage’s will to rip
But that’s not the final piece
That’s not what’s inside the beast
What scares me most takes another form
It is the calm inside the storm
Still, there is a curiosity
To know this thing inside of me…
This heart made of glass
With every beat it shatters
Can’t you hear the cracks
I don’t believe this
There isn’t enough air for
All the breaths I need