I fell asleep last night on the couch at 8 pm (Like a boss)! My husband and son worked their way around me and I knew I should wake up. I knew I should try to wash the dishes, put a wash on. But I couldn’t.
Had I run a marathon ? Had I been cleaning all day ? Nope. I was exhausted plain and simple. Except it’s predictably cliched in that it’s never simple and I always feel so fucking guilty.
I had such good intentions for this last week. I wanted to clean more, walk more , write more, pack more boxes for our imminent move. Be more sprite than shite. Instead I had back pain, dizzy spells and always encroaching exhaustion.
That was my bad Endometriosis week. And I’m lucky. The pain was not agonizing like I’ve heard it can be for others. But the dizziness … and the lack of energy. Well these are the things that disrupt my life. And I try the tough love on myself. I’m not going easy on myself. This was another comment from a helpful family member.
Easy on myself? She doesn’t know me at all !
Anyway less ranting this week.
Instead let me tell you about my visit to a friend who has Endo. Way more severe than me. She can’t have kids and her ovary is fused to her stomach. But she had more compassion and understanding for me than anyone I know ( Bar my wonderful husband and Bff- I am very lucky). I will leave you with her words of true Endo wisdom:
“Don’t fookin apologise for yourself, don’t look for validation of your illness from anyone else and don’t waste your little energy trying to please people.
Do WHAT you can , WHEN you can and fuck em.
She is my guru. xxx
Thanks for reading. Hope you are doing the best you can when you can and if not the best … that’s fucking ok too 😀
How sweet the pavement seemed today
I licked it as I walked.
Consumed the lemon light
It’s zesty beams resting lightly in my mouth.
I’m leaving you see..
And nothing makes the street seem sweeter
Than knowing that soon I will walk it no more
Those trudging,weighted steps of yesterday
Seem so far away.
A hop, skip and a lump in my throat
I will miss the smiling man on his bike
The old, shuffling lady with her bowled over gait
And most of all,
I will miss you.
The streets where you live.
Where your candy kisses coated my tongue
And your sherbert eyes still fizzle in my brain.
Where do I draw the line ?
When does being the bigger person, make you feel small ?
Another apology on righteous ears
To stop my tears ?
Is it brave to forgive ?
Better to forget and live ?
Maybe courage is just letting go
Of something old,borrowed and blue.
I was just an option
A page in your twirling filofax
Did I win ?
Is it me today ?
I had torn the pages out of my book
Burnt some of them.
You were it.
A,B,C all the way to Xxx
Now I’ve got the hump
I feel like a chump.
The sharp, piercing blade of your mouth
Shredded me to confetti
I was airborne. Torn.
Was it better to be scattered though?
Perhaps the pieces of me held together by comfortable glue
Were now going places.
Each tiny, fluttering scrap had eyes to see.
More vision than the old me.
And when this ache of being hacked up fades
All the tiny fragments will return to the fold
And I will be wiser, braver and bold.
It’s not tidy this depression thing
You can’t wrap me up in cellophane
Mask the pain.
I won’t react or act the way I should
Do the things a proper depressed person could
Slit my wrists or cut my arms
My depression lacks those usual harms.
But I will definitely push you away.
Get angry when you judge my ways.
Because depression isn’t what the leaflet says.
It comes in all sorts of wrapping
A hard crash of the skull or an incessant nagging.
I’m sorry if I can’t be the one you save
By encouraging me to remain brave
By telling me to try to get out of bed
Any advice on how to leave my head?
So let’s call this a true confession
From me to you about my depression
It’s not neat certainly not light
So don’t get annoyed if I don’t get it right.
It wasn’t just the salt on my skin
The golden shimmer on the rippling shore
It wasn’t my immersion into cool sloshing waves
Nor the sweet grip of the tide on my back.
I lay, bobbing on the ever changing surface
And felt the swell take over me.
It wasn’t just the swimming
It was the giving of myself to a power greater than my limbs could fathom
The surrender to a pull that knows no end
Ruled by moon perhaps but I prefer the tilting theory
A basin tipped by a whirling sphere
A sphere tipped by an unknow hand.
So I dove under.
Forgot the orange peel that had beached me for years
The uneven tone of a too many wobbling folds.
I swam. I swam. I swam.
I was mermaid for a day until the dusky touch of a falling sun
Beckoned me back to shore.