By Melanie Kim Brockwell in My Daily Journal

What people don’t know

April 19, 2023

People don’t know how much pain I’m in, every day, and how hard I fight… to get things done, to carry on (being), and simply to appear as if I am not so I might avoid conversations about how un.well I might be or, worse still, if I am yet using my gift to help those most in need. Those things pain me. Perhaps not so much as the pain itself but certainly enough to want not to have to face them on top of whatever today brings. And I am s-o v-e-r-y t-i-r-e-d.

What people don’t know is how I tire so easily these days — some days, not all, and more so after the fact than during when I am naturally, automagically present with the patience of a preschool teacher as it is just my way rather than needing to try or reach for it — tire of listening to other people lose their shit when they have one bad day or frustrating experience. How I tire of wanting nothing more than sleep and waking without pain enough to get things done and carry on doing whatever today is asking of me. Even if that is being asked to be in more pain.

For I am happy to do it; when asked, as I am now.

And frightened too, of how much power people yield in my life should they tire of me and my “sickness”; enough to abandon me to my plight in need of so much and able to give (I feel) so little.

Of course that is not the story they tell at present. It has only been seven years plus and counting. Who knows when their patience and loving kindness will break? So I wait.

I stand on the edge of a knife wanting to be well (enough not to need them) and accepting what-is. And, as I straddle this blade, one hangs above my head, waiting for the beams to burst their bridges (between sadness and wandering) to slay my fever-ish mind.

That is all.