Luggage packed, vehicle loaded
goaded by the clocks visage
probability creeps as time is eroded
corrupting all sensibility.
Sorted, scanned, and inspected
then coached on etiquette briefly
anticipation in the window reflected
the calming of a storm named hesitation.
Where does the wind go
when we so oft look away
to find solace in stillness?
Perhaps to our dreams
to revive with nature’s breath
our hopes for brighter futures.
When at last the ship did
blast off
eight souls were sent
away
where they go so to
we go
to those distant stars far
above
on the backs and minds of
the earth
Living with a chronic illness is something that I am new to. I was diagnosed at the start of this year. Here’s how that happened. Forewarning, I discuss bodily functions in this post. Don’t read it, if that kind of thing makes you squeamish.
About two weeks prior to my diagnosis I was bloated, gassy, and constipated which I had taken milk of magnesia to try and relieve. Constipation was not new to me.
One day at work I felt abdominal cramping and when I went to the bathroom I found a substantial amount of bright red blood in my stool.
I was freaking out because my Dad has colon cancer. Because of that my mind immediately defaulted to “It must be cancer!”
I broke down crying while on the toilet at work. I called my husband to let him know what happened and he calmed me down, and helped me remember that we wouldn’t know what’s wrong until I saw a doctor; he then recommended that I speak to my manager. I had a full-blown panic attack in my manager’s office and then went home.
I went to a clinic where, for the first time in my adult life, someone looked at my butthole. The doctor checked to see if I had a hemorrhoid that may have ruptured, but I didn’t, so she referred me to a gastroenterologist. I went to a gastroenterologist the next day and was scheduled for a colonoscopy the day after.
The bowel preparation for the colonoscopy was one of the worst things that I have ever experienced.
After the colonoscopy I was informed that I more than likely had Crohn’s Colitis but they would have to wait for the results of the biopsy that they took to come back to know for sure. The biopsies came back within the next 48 hours and I was officially diagnosed with Crohn’s Colitis and prescribed an anti-inflammatory medication that I would potentially have to be on for the rest of my life, this is when I got to experience medicated enemas for the first time, 30 days worth.
As a woman in her twenties, already struggling to be confident in her own skin; having diarrhea, mucus, and blood coming out of my ass multiple times a day, wasn’t exactly a confidence-booster.
My self-esteem took a huge blow.
My relationship suffered.
My outlook on life was bleak.
I was drowning.
Exist within the existential crises.
Are you afraid of death, and the end to it all?
I think that fear is a very reasonable response. We exist for such a tiny period of time and then we don’t. Death is a scary thing to come to terms with, even if you have beliefs in things like an afterlife.
I have found myself crying for hours because of this thing that I cannot avoid. Death is inevitable. Logically I should put it out of my mind entirely since my thinking about it will only burden me mentally and physically which in turn shortens my lifespan further.
Isn’t it interesting that the primary reason we are afraid of dying is that we have so much that we love in our lives, you don’t want it to end, but then waste time being afraid and sad which leads to not engaging with the things that we love. It’s amusing to think how counterintuitive that is.
Focus on what you can control and let the things that you cannot control go.
Don’t leave space for dread. Actively focus on the things that you love. Allow those things to fill that space. Utilize your time the best that you can so that, at the end of it, you won’t feel like you missed any opportunities to enjoy living.
“Jealousy” is suspended art.
Hanging from the ceiling, made up of a collection of objects that are placed in positions to create a larger picture. When you look at it from far away and from the correct angle, you can identify it as “Jealousy”, but when you get close to each piece that makes it up you don’t see “Jealousy” only the many pictures of memories and experiences, torn up, crumpled up, and arranged just so that have been curated over time. Funny enough, some of the art is made up of the same pictures.
I have a gallery filled with art titled “Love”, “Desire”, “Creativity”, “Sense of Humor”, “Insecurity”, “Depression”, “Mania”, “Separation-Anxiety”, “Jealousy” and more. We all have this, or something like it. Each gallery is similar in appearance, but upon closer inspection are made up of different images.
Sometimes the art here obscures each other and I can’t see “Happiness” through “Jealousy” and “Insecurity”.
“Creativity” and “Sense of Humor” among others, are made from overlapping pieces, they use segments of “Depression”, “Love”, “Insecurity” etc.
I am not fond of every piece of art in my gallery. In fact, I would like to set fire to a few of them. I wonder, without them, would I continue to exist?
I have a parasite.
It originated in the depths of my gut, crawled up my spine, behind my brain and then enveloped it. It comes with a heavy heat, like the inside of a car in Phoenix, Arizona on a summer’s day. It is rooted in my psyche, but occasionally manifests physically. The heat is followed by a fog, and the mind is made obscure. Irritability and confusion kick in thereafter. All of this is happening while I am working, spending time with friends, doing chores, or attempting to binge watch a new show. I attempt to shake it off but it clings with a strength I currently cannot overcome.
This parasite that wreaks havoc on my mind and body is known commonly as “jealousy”.
Grow Gray With Me 