Category: adversity

Adrenal Spin

Death has visited us,
and subsequently,
visitations, and
a funeral.

Ours was a loss
long anticipated,
suffering relieved
by passing on.

Dutifully, I planned
to accompany Mom,
show support, and
represent our side.

Disability answers
to its own drum,
and this added stress
inflamed the beat.

Attempts at resting,
met fired adrenals –
locked on fight/flight
as my mind reeled

conjuring images
of confrontations,
inquisitions, and
judgments, then

raised unrelated
issues unresolved,
spinning webs,
speeding pulse

I spiraled into
a perpetual abyss
of wiry panic –
release unattainable.

Disappointment
my hangover,
as predictably,
I am a no show.

Who Speaks for The Silent?

Your voice, he said, it sounds…different…

Project your voice
I learned in drama;
speak to the back,
keep it strong;
don’t let it falter.

I had to replay your message several times…

Hold that note,
dig deep –
from the diaphragm;
sing from your belly.

Must be something wrong with the machine…

Demonstrate conviction
let your tone convey passion
stand tall, be confident
motivate your audience
my orator Dad told me.

I couldn’t make out your words…

Performance demands voice;
activism relies on voice;
change requires voice.

You sound so weak…
not yourself at all.

I am losing my voice,
but not my words,
I have so much to say,
who will say it for me?

 

In Wisdom Released

The officiousness of your interrogation –
tones of authority (masking ignorance) –
unnerve me, conjuring memories
of past violations; re-victimizing.

Proclaiming concern whilst fishing –
probing deviations; implying blame;
I am aroused to counterattack;
dis-abled, not dis-armed.

You think I chose this abduction,
wittingly willed myself crippled,
invited helplessness:  laid down
and tolerated this life-invasion?

I find your tactics bullying, bordering
dubious, and revert to adolescence –
a surrogate adult, hyper-vigilant
in my self-protective backlash.

Your judgments are incredulous,
like a petulant child you protest
efforts to quiet unwanted advice
insist upon your righteousness.

If I was able to dislodge this ball
of stifled rage, I’d educate you on
the differences between support
and impertinence – but I am tired.

Strong-armed into submission,
I am left raw, newly battered,
maliciously wishing retribution,
cold-shouldering instead.

Is it the precariousness of current
suffering that has ruptured caring
or present reality that has shattered
the pretense of so-called friends?

Repercussions of confrontation,
(vows suddenly lacking promise)
weaken already tenuous success,
undermine self-actualization.

I only wish you’d understand that
although life has raped me, I am
stretching my wings, awakening,
cherishing, for once, self-worth.

In my new-found sensibility, I will
re-evaluate, and re-value meaning,
discern and select empowerment,
embrace (and reject) relationship.

Infirmity, you see, has advantages –
obliging new perception, discounting
material trickery, retiring innocence-
wisdom gained a just rebuttal.

 

 

Disability’s Dilemnas

Clutter defines my surroundings:
accumulation intended to simplify
only complicates, suffocates.

I am roommate, burden, dependent
confined to a singular existence
no longer lover, wife, companion.

While I lament the past –
ghosts of horrors and indecencies –
he drinks to forget lost dreams.

We have vowed to mend the cracks
carefully secured our footing
and yet our foundations rots.

Is it our over-active need to please
or the cold civility of our interactions
that causes us to withdraw?

My mind drowns me with shoulds
that my body can’t possibly fulfill,
guilt flooding my conscience.

How do we reconcile this distance
imposed by so much tragedy,
right the impotency of loss?

Life rolls on and I with it
humour and meditated calm
wrangling doubt and criticism.

He wears the projections
of my dissatisfaction: unresolved
remnants of old wounds resurfaced.

I can no longer ignore my needs
and reel at the mounting imbalance
grasping for sustenance and equilibrium.

Pulling away, I stubbornly proclaim
self-reliance, hindering progress
endangering self for dubious promises.

These life-altered eyes perceiving
only disappointing, unpalatable options
grasp for an end to this perpetual ache.

I am lost, disoriented, tired
communication clouded by fear
I hardly understand myself.

There is no solid footing on
a voyage as rocky as ours,
no answers to allay uncertainty.

Now is not a time for walls,
tenderness alone will guard our hearts
and patience lighten the way.

A Falling Out

I would entertain confidence,
but here, on the edge of emotion
(others before self )
I am ungrounded.

I gesture kindness
(a shady, alluring reconciliation)
your heart unavailable
distracted and driven.

Pushed aside, I am
(non-conformist)
ostracized,
still raw.

I ponder relationships
(incensed and violated)
worthy of investigation –
these many sides of self.

Sidestepping social niceties
(I am righteously enraged)
personal indignation
makes for interesting dynamics.

Exile is hurtful,
unacceptable – I look
for a voice – pause –
your expectations a brick wall.

Obligations temporarily overloading,
executive functioning down,
my exterior collapses –
we fall out.

Invincibility

Remember when we were lovers,
and would stay all out night –
me full of bravado,
you coaxing one more drink?

I’d awaken the next morning
head thick and fogged
and you’d reassure me
that the car was in the driveway
safe and sound
and want to do it all over again
but I’d have to work,
so you would sulk all day
until you could sweep me up once more.

“You’re going to burn out before you’re 25”
a co-worker told me
and you just laughed and said:
“Not me, I’m invincible!”
and we’d dance the night away
never knowing where we’d end up
or how we got there.

When did it change for us?
When did you abandon me?

Was it the day we lost four friends-
all dead in a fiery crash –
a tragic combination of speed and alcohol
that fateful long weekend?

Or was it that time
you let me get into that car
told me I’d be okay
flattered me that a man so handsome
would want my company
then left me alone
to be raped?

Maybe it was me that
just couldn’t look you in the face anymore
deceived by your recklessness,
seized by the recognition
of your self-serving ways.

Time and obligations
have made me forget you,
yet every once in awhile,
I dream of those days
when we watched the sun come up
then sleepless and still buzzed
faced the world – our oyster –
as if nothing could tear us down.

 

Emotional Pain Dance

A singular activity
suffices not to distract
from underlying pain –
multi-task.

Robotic attentiveness
fails to allay
constant buzzing –
re-focus.

Sidestepping issues
elicits no solace,
unravelling inevitable –
shutdown.

I am trapped
in solitary confinement,
sensory deprivation –
unleashed

momentous force
raging within
boring outwards –
scream

silently, alone,
unheard, unseen,
unburdening –
repent.

Self-pity dead ends,
breathe in life,
suppress negativity –
re-align.

Multi-tasking
ignites purpose,
smacks of productivity –
conceals.

Oh, To Dream

I dream of waking before the dawn,
preparing for my day with proficiency,
professionally preened and on the go.

In reality, I see the early light of day
through an insomnia-induced haze,
or miss it altogether, unable to rise.

I will carelessly tie my hair back,
and moan at my image, forgoing cosmetics –
no one will see me, after all.

If I dress, it will be for comfort,
elasticized waistline compensating for swelling,
soft fabrics to soothe the burning aches.

In my dream it is the first day of school,
and I am excited and anxious,
caught up in the camaraderie of the moment.

I awake to the resounding silence of solitude,
no schedules await me, no colleagues
exchanging pleasantries, communal conspiracy absent.

I will pace myself, shuffling
between bed and simple tasks,
a cup of tea, maybe some writing.

I drive in my dream, a shiny red car
in which I glide through the streets
and park with the pride of knowing it awaits.

Its been years since I’ve felt the freedom
and independence of self-chauffeuring,
reliant on the more able-bodied, sharply cognizant.

It’s a rare occasion that rouses me from
this compelled complacency, enough
to venture into the hyper-stimulating world.

Disability has closed around me,
limiting experience, restricting imagination,
until I dream – and am whole again.

My Spirit Stands Strong

Progress – seldom linear –
tosses me into unexpected decline –
stranded and incapacitated.

My son – with labour-hardened strength
leaps to my side, steadying me
and I feel the fear in his caring grip.

My daughter, ever compassionate,
reaches out for me with horror-filled eyes
as my body crumples onto the bed.

My husband, my oak, seeks to comfort
his voice betraying the helplessness
this futile predicament imposes.

Beloveds, I know that you see me
this dis-abled, non-functioning shell
weakened and sickly, lying on this bed.

Do not be deceived – that is not me –
it is only an illusion –
a vessel – temporarily fettered.

I am, in essence, beside you –
ambitions and desires intact.
Feel me there, tall and proud.

Sense the wholeness of my being
remember me for the woman I am yet to be –
My spirit stands strong.