Good Afternoon?

Rumi’s dawn breezes – once sage advice – now taunt me.  I am loathe to greet the day, not that I despise its arrival, rather that waking has become laborious since the onset of chronic illness.  Daughter of a military man, I am conditioned to rise before the sun, have a lifetime of such anecdotes to my credit, however; while the brain is still willing, the body groans, and aches wail with renewed emphasis as the numbing cocoon of sleep loosens.  Hours dwindle from the first inkling of consciousness till muscles comply with movement, and I am lucky if I’m actually able to utter ‘Good Morning”.

Rays, like razors, slice,
invade sleep’s cocoon – absent
winged emergence.

(Mish is hosting in the dVerse pub tonight with the prompt of morning.  I have also worked in the promptings of Fandango (loathe), Ragtag Community (labour), and Daily Addictions (sage).  Thank you all for your inspiration.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

45 thoughts on “Good Afternoon?

  1. I’m heartbroken that your mornings bring such discomfort, instead of joy, V.J. This knowledge makes me admire all the more your strength, and the beauty you still find all around you.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I share that moment of awakening and the aches and pain that come thereafter! Better than the alternative of not waking at all, I tell myself! Well written!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The onset of chronic illness can make any movements difficult and throw away the day’s plan. Hope you get to enjoy the afternoon and marvel the warmth of summer before the onset of autumn. I appreciate your personal share.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. We are partners in pain, but I salute your vivid sharing. My wife stills rises early, so I get up too; gives me more of the day for poetry and photography

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Your description of living with chronic illness is so accurate. I understand completely how you are feeling. Sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is give in and rest, listen to the birds sing and let the hours flow where they will.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I really think that was how I got over a lot of the CFS symptoms. I stopped listening to what experts were telling me and followed my own instincts more. Instead of pushing myself to get better I tuned into what my body really wanted. Still do really – I have a cold right now and have spent most of today doing not very much in particular. I feel better already. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  6. I am so sorry that your illness dictates to you and causes you so much pain, V.J. It sounds like a struggle between mind and body. .Your description of how the ‘numbing cocoon of sleep loosens’ and ‘hours dwindle from the first inkling of consciousness till muscles comply with movement’ sounds frustrating. The haiku really brings the pain of arthritis home..

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Oh, how terrible with such illness… I have nothing against mornings, except that fact that they rarely works with the sun in our nordic daylight… either you have to go up while it’s still dark (winter) or you go up long after the sun has risen (summer).

    Liked by 1 person

    1. True…we were never allowed that privilege – my father always demanded an early wake up time, so we wouldn’t miss the day. I came to love it. Now I deal with the guilt of not being able to meet that command. Life! (eye-rolling).


  8. Being conscious at your morning waking is all you need to be. What’s the rush to get up? Loosing what once was a part of your lifestyle has changed drastically. Accepting where we are at any given time is so very demanding and difficult to digest.
    Thank you for sharing your mornings’ changes. Living with pain and disability is not for sissies. I am so happy to have a connection with you. We do have very similar lives in some respects.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, Helene (sorry about missing accents). Acceptance comes and goes. I had been doing so much better and then moving set me back. Sometimes the sliding backwards is harder after there has been improvement, but I’m old enough to know that life is seldom linear. So happy we have connected.

      Liked by 1 person

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