Tag Archives: chronic illness

Fear

I am afraid of my bones

betraying me

when I need them most

dragging me down

so I’m barely a ghost

unable to move

because they are rock

choking me

so I can’t see, hear, or talk.

I am afraid of my future

the world unknown,

what will happen when

I’m older but not much more grown,

when it’s time to be ready

and I’m not ready in time

I’m afraid of the future, I’m afraid of dying.

I’m afraid of failure,

I’m afraid of breaking,

I’m afraid of missing out by chances not taking,

I’m afraid of loneliness,

I’m afraid of greed,

I’m afraid of not having all that I’ll need.

I’m afraid of myself – not being enough,

taking the parts and not having the stuff

to make it through to be the best I can be,

I’m afraid of myself, failing me.

I am afraid

and it makes me cry, makes me huddle together, rock back and forth, sigh.

It makes me stare into space and question my plans, makes me shiver and fumble and squeeze my hands.

I am afraid

and it makes me weak. Makes me tired of listening and not willing to speak. Makes me want to give up, stop trying, not go on – makes me crumble and tumble headlong, from minute to minute, day to day, lost in the current of not being okay, insecure, unwise, alone, and unmade, fearing that no one will come to my aide, wanting someone to tell me to not be afraid.

I pause and reflect, my memories recollect, the answer I’ve heard, sung word by word…”Be not afraid, I go before you always, come follow me, and I will give you rest”.

 

My heart calms, I still have qualms, but they’re soothed by psalms, and with a belief that the ONE loves me… perhaps I can be free.

 

 

 

 

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Filed under General Poems

Fireworks and distractions

Happy July 4th, I love America.

 

Now that I’ve displayed patriotism, I shall talk about other things. Or maybe this day of independence celebrated by exploding things connects to what I’m about to say – because a lot of people drink beer and then light explosives off that are inches from their fingertips on July 4th, and they lose fingers, and I just put some board games away while cleaning and suddenly my finger is in agony and I can’t bend it. I hurt my finger. That’s how it relates. I didn’t blow my finger off with a firework – but I did hurt it… putting away a game.

As I type this out with one hand and contemplate how frequently and easily I hurt myself, and the fact that my foot still throbs because it’s probably broken too, and I woke up this morning with legs cramping and a body saying – Catherine, I hate you, we hate the world, roll back over and go to sleep, I wonder at what point I’ll have to inform the people I love of my injuries. I don’t like informing people of my pain, their reactions are usually very pitying, and pestering, and involve things like telling me to go to the hospital…and asking me things like why I haven’t been to the hospital yet…

So, I made a doctor’s appointment online for a week and a day from now, and I’ll just ward off their comments until then by masking my pain as exhaustion and anti-social behavior… Except I recently wound up with a boyfriend and he really likes to hold my hand, and he might notice me wincing in pain…or take anti-social behavior personally.

I was wondering the first two weeks of this relationship whether dating him was a good idea, because he seemed to like me so much, and I seemed just about perfect and flawless in his eyes, while he’s a normal human being – but now I remember that I’m secretly bound to fall apart at any moment, and him being able to accept that would be a miracle in itself and that – followed with his continued attempts to actually love me and will my good, would pretty much mean I should marry him…

I’m getting ahead of myself though.

Right now all I know is I’m in pain and it sucks, and I don’t wanna let anyone know because then I get treated like an invalid, except by the doctors who are just like “Yep, you broke something, here’s another cast!”, and then send me out the office because all I am is another patient. So then it’s me, in a cast, facing the pitiful faces of those I love and attempting to make them think everything is fine so that they’ll let me continue to live a semblance of a normal life.

Well, it’s a normal life for me…breaking bones.

I’m probably fine, but I needed to vent.

Pray for me dear readers. Prayers work miracles. In fact, thanks for your prayers for my friend with cancer – all her tumors disappeared. Praise be to God!

He’s the reason for my hope, my joy, and also why I don’t like making a huge deal when I hurt myself, because it always gets better.

 

I do need to go to the doctor though.

Okay, bye!

-Catherine

 

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