Dear readers, I’m sorry I haven’t been writing but I’ve been in a strange limbic hell, first things first I need to address that reality.
The sentence so far has been five years, since 2011, the lifetime of my youngest child,
The nightmare peaked last year with pneumonia that didn’t respond to treatment. Then this year, roll up, roll up and make your choice between the month of hives on my head, the ever present pain in my chest, the nightmares, the daily knowing I might die of stress,
no sign of a dip in that peak yet.
I know the things you’re supposed to do, the philosophies, the practical self-care advice,
I apply them all,
I practice with surrender,
and the good fight.
I can be mindful, slow time, be in the moment, my eyes exhausted,
I can savour like nothing you’ve seen, the little things, the good things, never had such an audience.
My thoughts I observe from a great distance within myself, and sometimes I switch off all connection, disembody myself, for a change of direction.
I read, centuries of wisdom of the greatest minds,
I work, to write is to disapper, though never for long enough time.
I clean, but like walking and music there is too much thinking in it, and I’m always secretly on edge, for the invasion,
that already came.
The night, I dread the nightmares, there was the one about the growth in my head, I cried for days. Gnarled parasite with thick roots boring here and there. I tried to break one, rip it out, but it splintered and bled.
They were one of the best things in life but, I can’t look at the trees now.
I’m hoping I will see them when the leaves come back,
but I don’t know if I will.
Every morning I wake in pain, back and near constant chest pain.
I’m rarely hungry so my effort is to make it healthy, make it count, like the philosophies, I imagine them all, words, images, vitamins, philosophies, swords flying, to stop the rot.
Some prisoners get a release date, some know what each day will bring, I do not.
Deep breath… I wrote this in a mad rush, it was hard to start then it flowed, I’d been stuck and I forced a beginning. I added the ‘catharsis’ definition after I’d written because I truly felt this, I felt… lighter, for having purged the tension and stress. Unfortunately there’s a way to go yet on this path, and a long time before I can stop being cryptic and say what I really think.
Please don’t feel the need to sympathise, I’m not looking for anything here, just wanting to be straight and to have my life back one day, however long that takes, whatever the damage, that can’t be helped. I’m trying to survive in the meantime.
This is the worst of it here, there are many good things that help me everyday. You know how it is, when you write, like when you think, if you’re honest, it‘s not always pretty, where there is light and life there is dark, so don’t worry. This was a purge!!! It helped, xo Jane