Bruised

I have been told by many recently that I should share what I am feeling. Not hold back. Playing the martyr. Adult. The one always in control. I'm afraid. Afraid that if I share, I will never survive. I will unleash this flood of tears that is suffocated so far down in my soul that I will not be able to stop. I will drown if I open up.

The truth is that I am bruised. Inside and out. My skin is black and blue. The staples go way deeper than my skin. They puncture my heart. Each metal piece cutting deeper and deeper until I am almost see-through. Non-existent.

I'm tired. Worn out. Beyond exhausted. Too much energy needed to pick up all the pieces. Again. Put everything back together. Function. Would you be surprised if this time I just can't. That I just want to give up. To be done.

Have I not lived long enough. Gone through it all. Put in my time. Why is thirty not considered a full life. I've given it all. I've lived. I'm tired. No more.

Whatever. That's it.

6 Years.

6 Years.

72 Months.
2190 Days.
52560 Hours.
3153600 Minutes.

Time is a funny thing.
Slows down when you need it to pass.
Flies by when you want to catch the moment.
You can't change it.
Only relive it.

Time has a mind of its own.
Memories are confused.
Brain in a fog.
Thoughts rearranged.
Is any of it true.

Time never leaves.

Always in the background.

You can't escape it.
Only avoid suffocation.
Wait to forget.

This day comes every year. 

Less and less meaning. 

As time evaporates. 

Memories fade. 

Tomorrow is another day. 

Polar

Polar opposites

Two sides of a coin

Day and night

Sun and moon

One young and the other old

The young one is quiet. Often introspective. Thoughts flood her mind at all times. She is mostly sad. Stuck in a past life. Forever reliving memories. She is 6 years old. Wants to be held. To be heard. To be listened to. She is artistic. Creative. A loyal friend. Would drop anything to be there for you.  

The old one is loud. A leader. A bitch. Take charge kind of gal. She has a hard shell. Built a fortress around her heart. No one would dare enter. Giving up is not option. She shows up. No matter what. Fights to lead a functional life. No one can think she is weak. She is 80. Propelled into adulthood. Forced to be mature. Make life decisions. She is a fighter. She will leave before you hurt her.

One is mean to the other

Telling her to snap out of it

Not to fall into the trap

Of life

Of love

The other is sad

She is tired

Begging the other to make things ok

To hold her hand

Waiting for a pain free moment

They are polar

But perhaps one day they could meet

Join forces

Unite

And form an alliance

Wake Up

I'm still here
And I am tired
I need a break
From life
From everyone
But mostly from myself
A minute
Would be nice
Of calm
Freedom
From reality
Life
Just one second
Pain free
No thoughts
Sleep
Why does my body
Betray me
Just need a break
Not sure how much more
I can take

passive nothing

Dear A

It’s very hard for me to write this letter. To verbalize what it is I am feeling. But I feel that if I don’t get it out, I might burst. I just don’t understand why you act different toward me. Do you even notice? Do you feel the difference? Do you even notice that you are avoiding me? That you are distant. Not around. Is it because of something I did? I just don’t get it. Don’t you want to have a relationship with me? Why shut me out? Do you feel happy? Coming home late and avoiding me? Making Shabbos plans and not even including me? When is the last time you called me? Texted me? Do you even notice? Do you know that sometimes I feel like an orphan? All alone. No parents to turn to. That if something happened to me, they wouldn’t even know. No relationship with any family. My siblings only call me when they need something. And when I call them, they don’t have much to say. Why have I always been there for you and for them and I can’t seem to get the same in return. What happened to the backgammon games? Eating supper together? Shabbos meals? The walks? The guitar lessons? We need each other. We have always been there for each other. To bounce ideas on. Our days. I don’t understand what happened? Are you mad at me? Do you feel happy in the way that things are? Because I don’t. I have made effort a few times and you have pushed me away. You are not approachable. You talk to everyone but me. And I am not ok with that. If there’s something you want to say, then say it. This passive behavior is not getting us anywhere. So here is me stepping out of myself. Reaching out to make a change. I hope you take this letter to heart and make a change.

You know where to find me.

Your daughter,

R

permanently agitated

Am I agitated because my head hurts
Or does my head hurt because I'm agitated
Questions I ask myself
Every single day
Does everything have to feel
Like it's falling apart
Collapsing around me
Curve balls being thrown
Directly at my face
Tripping me as I move
Is the anger real
Or is it chemical imbalance
Am I kidding myself
Not going to therapy
No antidepressants
Faking this positive life
Suffocated by my own thoughts
Unable to handle real emotion
All sadness masked
Expressed as anger
Bubbling at the surface
Internal discomfort
Emotional immobility
Can't a girl catch a break
No pain
For a few minutes
No aggravation
For one day
Support
Attention
Love
Wouldn't that be nice
To feel like you belong
And not constantly abandoned
Over and over again
When will the agitation end
In others
Myself
Tell me. When.

What Did I Do

What am I supposed to take from that
Is there a lesson somewhere
A punishment
Were you trying to give me a message
A wake up call
Did I need it that day
That minute
Of all places
I had to pass by then
Cross the street
At that very moment
On that specific day
Exact hour
Tell me why
What did I do
Why did I need that
What were you trying to say
Did you want me to think
Feel
Pretend there's such a thing
As coincidence
Random chance
There's no such thing
Everything matters
Has a purpose
Meaning
A reason
So tell me why
Why did you do it
Do you even care
See me
Hear my silent pain
Is that your plan
Destruction
Shame
Slow
Agonizing
Life-long
Agony
So blatantly obvious
In my face
On a terrible day
The worst kind

Tell me why

You Don't Know Me

You think you know me but you don't.

Outside
I am a doer
A fighter
A leader
I am motivated
And loyal
I will be there for you
Generous
Kind
Loving

Inside
I am weak
A patient
I am in pain
I am scared
Lonely
I am a failure
Sad
Static
Immobile

I have officially been told that I have a medication overuse headache. So add that to my three other kinds of headaches and we could have a party. Oh wait, it seems my head is already having a party and I wasn't invited. So not only do I have bronchitis. But I also have to stop taking all meds for 5 weeks. Gotta ween myself off my addiction to pain meds. All the while suffering from a terrible withdrawal headache, attached to my migraine and occipital neuralgia. Not to mention my IIH. Which thanks to Hopkins, we have no idea what is going on. I just get to fall apart. And suffer in constant agony. And all the while, I have to function. Go about my regular life. Pretend like there isn't a war zone in my skull. That I don't feel like I'm being attacked by shooting fire. That I won't combust at any minute. From sheer pain. I have to go about my day like nothing is wrong and I am totally fine. Work. School. Volunteering. No biggie. When the truth is. Most days I want to curl up and shut down.

How could Hopkins dare tell me that come January, I will have to find a local neurologist to manage my care. And in the next sentence say my case is quite complicated. How could you dump me and expect me to manage. No one wants to deal with me. Have I become that patient. Have I become a nuisance. Life fading out of my eyes. Suffocating under the weight of my pain. Of my diseases. How can you tell me six months ago that you will admit me for testing and then not follow up. Tell me that there are no beds. No neurosurgeons on staff. That you are understaffed. And receiving over 300 calls a day. Aren't you the top hospital in the world. Innovative in your field. You say now that you will schedule me for DHA and ICP monitoring. Find out what is causing my chronic pain. But I don't believe you. You only seem to care when people are dying. Is that what you are waiting for. For me to completely fall apart. Puking my guts out. Unable to go to work. To school. Confined to my bed. My couch. You need me to get to the point before you will help me.

But do I even want to be admitted for testing. Shave my head. All to find out there's nothing wrong. That I am just a mess. Can't get my life together. Who will stay with me. Take care of me. I can't be the patient. The needy one. I am the strong one. Dr. Rabbit. My fear of being alone is overwhelming. Of never moving on from this chapter. Never being free. Pain free. I am desperately trying to live a productive life. Unemotional at work. Working my ass off in school. But this pain is overwhelming. It's debilitating. I cannot function. I cannot move. I cannot succeed like this. I am a shadow. Living half a life. With no relief. No break for the future.

You think you see me. But you have no idea.

Cloudy

A cloud that follows you around. Daily. Hourly. Minute after minute. Refuses to abandon its post. It has been assigned to you since birth. Been very loyal. More loyal than most. The cloud follows you wherever you go. Never far behind. A cloud filled with sawdust. Filled with blood. Sometimes you think you've managed to escape. To hide. That you've managed to dodge the cloud. But it always, always finds you. Never gives you a breather. The cloud always finds you. Trails right behind you. If not immediately above you. Sometimes the cloud drifts far away. Sometimes it leaves for a long time. But the cloud always finds it's way back. The cloud will never leave. The cloud is constant. The cloud is reality.

The cloud is my comfort zone. It's my security blanket. I don't know how to live without it. I am naked when it leaves me. I am cold and alone without it. The truth is, I am vulnerable. That is my confession. And that is something most people will never hear me say. I am not that strong person everyone sees. That wall you all see was built to protect myself. From all the pain and heartache. The constant disappointment. Letdowns. The sadness. For the little girl who had no parents. Who had no love. Who now spends her life trying to pick up the pieces. Who spent her life being an extrovert and finally came to terms with reality that she was really an introvert. I am just a little girl. Stuck in a woman's body. Learning how to navigate this life. This world. With this cloud over my head.