Here in the place of my youth (1)

Here in the place of my youth
My roots draw deep
And the earth is dark, and moist, and nourishing
Here I am most myself
Most connected with a lost past
Here I feel my strength
Rising in me like courage
Like joy
Here the wind brings a secret knowledge
And sunlight, instead of burning
Is brilliant hot wine
Warming as wassail
Bracing like brandy
Here, time is an unfinished story
Slowly unfolding its measured loops
Revealing only parts of the whole

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell

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Poetry Month, Day 22: Conundrum

Conundrum

Am I not dancing
Because I’m in pain,
Or am I in pain
Because I’m not dancing?
These are the questions I ponder
As I feel or fear
My art
Slipping away from me.
Should I push through the pain,
The exhaustion,
The simply not wanting to?
Or should I coast gently into the sunset
Of my disability?
For the first time in over sixteen years of effort,
Just
Let
It
Win?
The thought is strangely enticing.
The soft, slow drift of un-effort
The lambent caress of no-pain
The quietly darkening days
Until everything, everything
Reaches a slow tempo and quiet
Where I can live
Gently.
Gentle is a word I crave
I hunger for gentle
As a child hungers for sweets.
Again,
I do not know if this
Is depression,
Or an acceptance of reality.
Sometimes hope is the delusion.

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell

Obviously, I’m a couple days behind. This poem explains why. :} I’m planning to catch up, although it may be after the month is up. I’m sticking with it!!

Poetry Month, Day 7: Fibromyalgia

Fibromyalgia

When I awaken, I am tired
I push myself through the day
As through cold molasses,
Continuing tired
Dragging leaden bones and an occasionally weary spirit
There are aches and pains
There is fog in my head
There is a sense of futility
But I know I will rebound.
Just…
Not
Today.
Let me get to bedtime
Unbroken
And rise again,
Weary tomorrow.

Copyright ©2015 C. Mitchell

Naptime is anytime.

Naptime is anytime.

Where to start?

Well, on the cusp of dramatic change again here. Mom and Dad left for Florida this morning, so – except for a much-anticipated visit from me in late December – I won’t see them until April. Ugh. I realize how much they ground me and emotionally bolster me when they’re not around… the phone just isn’t the same. More, I really *like* them and enjoy their company (even when, as yesterday, Dad opens a political discussion I’m not interested in pursuing, and things get a little unfortunate). Man. I need to make some new friends.

I’ve tried a few friend liaisons, but nothing really satisfying or lasting so far. Murph. So frustrating, but – and I keep reminding myself of this – in some ways, I’ve cast off (and been cast off by) so many trappings and traps of my former life, that this is the obvious time to rebuild, reload, reformat.

To change it up.

Pursuant to this, I am finally and well and truly done with a former co-worker’s shenanigans. Her frequent mean-spirited hysteria, the blindsides aimed at manipulating me into this or that behavior, the gaslighting intended to make me feel incapable and insane, and the just plain abuse – I’ve reached a level of dull, uncaring just-don’t-give-a-shit-anymore that makes it difficult for me to raise a work ethic. And I can’t bear to watch myself burn out this way, simply through the desensitization of dealing constantly with a conscienceless narcissist. If I can’t rekindle my love for dance, better that I leave it or at least change how I participate. It’s been 15 years in February; perhaps it’s time to do something new.

I’ve been defending my passion vehemently for the past year, but I’ve also been watching, with unease, my creeping exhaustion with the personality issues involved in this line of work. Add to that that I’m just not as good at it as I’d like to be – my body is increasingly ill-suited to the flexibility and stamina demands, and especially so as I fight chronic pain, arthritis, and the seemingly-inevitable tip over into winter depression.

So what does my future hold? Perhaps a change in work. Perhaps a change in residence, at least for a while. Certainly a change in me, continuing with the force of the encroaching tide: subtle but unstoppable. I wouldn’t go back to the woman I used to be, even if I could.

What I want out of life: passion, joy, fulfillment, chances to listen to the peacefulness within. I’m slowly peeling away the shells and influences that separate me from these goals, and trying to find better (? newer) avenues.

Here’s hoping.

Belly Of The Beast

I tried stopping one of my migraine meds last month – Topamax, because I suspect it’s actually *causing* headaches, albeit low-grade chronic headaches instead of huge skullbombs – but in the last week, I’ve had two (!!) classic migraines. The full treatment: blindness, nausea, pain, and sensitivity to light, sound, smells, and movement. Oh, joy. lol So this week, I’ve basically been eating junk food, which makes it worse, because I don’t have the energy for real food. I know. It makes no sense. However, there’s a creature comfort in caffeine-laden soda (OH CAFFEINE, I’ve missed you SO), potato chips, gluten-free pizza, apple crisp (OK, that’s kind of healthy: it’s got apples, oatmeal, and only 4 Tbps of sugar in the whole thing, so there), and Gummi Bears. Yeah. I know. There have actually been healthy meals, but as I spiral down through prodromes and postdromes, not to mention the actual events, I feel less and less like cooking, or cleaning up. I have two sinks full of dishes and have now taken to eating on paper towels so I don’t create any more dishes. 😀 I’m preferring to think of it as an energy-saving mechanism. (looking shifty)

So, it’s back to the doctor to see if any help can be found for the constant grinding headaches I’ve been having for months now. And back on the Topamax, much as I hate to say it. I am once again in the position of starting to lose hope if not fortitude; after several years of chronic migraines, two years without, and now another year+ with, well… experience indicates that the migraine-free years were the anomaly. I seem to be starting back down the long dark path that has characterized much of my adulthood. :}

The price of those two years without migraines was my marriage, in many ways I won’t delineate here; it’s too personal. However, I’m not eager to experience another such disjointing. It cost me my best friends and the person I had loved most in the world. I’m just starting to rebuild, here and now. I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other, not floating away in some medication-induced zombie state from which I’ll awaken, a couple years on, and not recognize my life. No, thanks.

In the meantime, I woke up this morning at 7:30am with a blind spot and am now waiting out this migraine. Pretty soon the dog’s going to want a walk, and that won’t be a happy moment for Mama. He’s kind of fretting that this week has been so weird. Well, buddy, that makes for two of us. 😦 Poor little bean.