So remember that crash I thought I had cleverly outrun? Yeah… it caught up to me today.
It happened this morning when I was walking to meet a friend for breakfast. It snuck up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder and punched me in the face as I turned around.
The balmy air turned thick and soupy, and I felt my body fill with lead and slow down. I mean literally slow down. The short walk to the cafe became an eternity.
I teared up when my friend asked me how I was. She hastily gave me some tissues off the table – which had the opposite affect to what I think she would have liked.
During our meal I felt the fog in my brain crawl down my throat and nestle into the pit of my stomach. I spent the rest of my day fighting back tears as I tried to work.
I attempted to write a poem about what I am feeling (the past few days I’ve been churning them out with ease) but all I could come up with was this junk:
Dizzily spinning in circles
No pause to catch your breath
One minute you’re playing in sunshine
The next you’re dancing with death
Never mind that lingering nausea
Or that sinking pit at your core
This is the ride you’ve been given
This is your mind at war
Don’t be fooled by your feelings
Or the love that you think you’ve found
In the end this illness is all that is real
Just you and your merry-go-round
Nothing spells strange better than stumbling home after work openly weeping in the bustling streets. I don’t know why this shit still surprises me.
Every time I start to feel good I think that it’s finally over – that I’ve found the winning formula and stabilized. I’m starting to think it’s a pipe dream.