Today Tears Fell

Today Tears Fell

Life’s teachings continue
to fall forever down –

Trickling all over me,
flooding my soul to drown.

Till with tears my eyes leak
that then make wet my cheeks;

I cannot stop the pain
life’s lessons teach for gain.

I feel so overwhelmed –
with feelings I must reap –

I fear I have no room,
no room left here to keep.

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Faltering Acquiescence

Faltering Acquiescence

To accept is a choice – of freewill, we can say – that often presents conditions not worth testing – we do not dare to. I, myself, feel that I am characteristically acquiescent. Forever searching for a balance in those phenomenal matters of the heart – those matters that we refer to as relationships; with those whom we are around, as well as with ourselves and our struggles. I say to myself with frequency, ‘I am too accommodating’ as both strength and flaw, but how does this relate to unprotested acceptance? When I accommodate, I accept that this is the way it is – that the direction in which my situations are taken, as result of universal persuasion or of another’s haste to take lead, is the simplest route my emotional soul can take – to be lead.

Numbing, to the mind and body, acceptance can be; though having too limited a reserve to oppose in pursuit of self-satisfaction – to fight against the strength of stubborn’s fist – makes me weary and is often less desirable than nil feeling. So with intent to maintain the tranquility of peace, acceptance is applied as a numbing agent to keep the paining bruises at bay.

Of course there are matters I feel worth fighting for; where dignity and self-esteem are endangered. Though why do I feel that, for preservation of the self, it is sometimes better accomplished by allowing another to lead and accept what wasn’t my choice?

Recent events have me contemplating this interaction that is in life. Choices are endless and an infinite number of results can follow, which in reality cannot be undone. I much prefer to allow another to be content in doing what they’d rather, so I let them decide upon what suits them best. This is especially in the case of those who need – who thrive – on planning according to their desires, interests, and convenience. This way, this allowance is gentler on my soul and self-worth because I am not left with the responsibility of another’s unhappiness, nor am I left exhausted by debate. However in saying this, I actually find that I am sometimes left exhausted by a confronting attack I have not initiated – this exhaustion being more consuming and debilitating than a self-started debate, resulting in complete and utter demolition of my self-esteem, and after which I sit; puzzled, shaken, and empty.

I am aware that I, for myself, must make plans and have goals and set limits. So why can’t sometimes an undebated, undisputed compromise be enough? – I suppose not as much a compromise as an accommodation to a situation.

Being bruised by these confrontations my dear MS swings my way, I feel struck down and hurt, and now question my acquiescence to this mighty beast; or to any that may give me a similar beating. Perhaps I can allow my acceptance of this situation to waver. Perhaps I am allowed that selfishness – to feel good about myself, whether or not I alone decide. I do not want to fight, so I lean to acquiesce; but if I should be abused, put down, or made feel at fault, my acceptance will falter and I will rise above the oppression that needs not leave me crippled; for I will not be left empty.

POEM – Spring’s Unveilings Now To Banish

POEM – Spring’s Unveilings Now To Banish

Slowly creeping, up and up,
sensation begins to vanish.
As spring returns, bringing forth new life,
winter’s ruins lay still – almost blackish.

A dirty pile of unclean dust,
whose touch is none but numbing,
unveils the ugly face of despair
to remind you of its coming.

Slowly creeping, up and up,
the sun rises to its highest –
a light that shines ever so bright;
a delight, though still I’m biased.

The warmth bringing its bountiful cheer,
my face stretched cheek to cheek,
since in winter the light had gone away
and left the world quite bleak.

But as joyful as spring’s coming may be,
a fear is unveiled in its high heat –
that basking in the colours, now brought,
my body cannot dare to compete.

Slowly creeping, up and up,
my sensations begin to vanish.
As spring brings rise to life anew,
it casts away my legs to banish.

What Goes Around May Come

What Goes Around May Come

Days – of all sorts – come, until so many years are gone. Thinking of the past may be one of the most crippling parts of living. Yes we reflect, accept, appreciate, and douse ourselves in nostalgia’s perfume – memorable, happy, naïve, young. But days pass and, still, we believe the past is more worth living because the present hurts and what we’ve missed on the day, now gone, must be lived in memory’s yesterday; today must wait.

Unfortunately the trouble is not just in the day of today, but also in its blocksthe call can wait; I’ll call back tomorrow…next week; but what if the time that suits you best never comes? I’m not claiming to be ‘all wise and all knowing,’ but I do know from my own experiences and habits that convenience is yours to do with what you want, and is derived from your priorities – your system’s network, wired and routed to your daily life goals, that is only activated by those most proximal, or pertinent, to your day’s success.

Today, I found myself going around and around about what I want – what I need – and I cannot convince my mind as to why I didn’t pick up the phone when those who cared wanted to talk – wanted to help, I’m sure, if I’d only answered and asked. Scared I was of disappointment, in myself and in those I never answered. So consumed with the ‘have to dos,’ I blocked the externals out and, in result, tied myself to a pole going forever around and around until my circle was perfect. Little did I realize that what goes around, may – will – come. Now I’m feeling the dead, busy lines of what I once represented; and my waist is tied, still, to my rope so that I cannot reach to troubleshoot.

I’ve come around, a full circle made, and my corners are dirty; dust-filled with negligence.

Like those I once avoided for fear of giving bad news, I’ve become – unanswered. Un-begrudgingly we act towards those as we’ve been treated; reciprocating, by example, how those who acted may wish to be regarded. We, our kind, complete this circle and go around and around to be faced with what may in fact come back from what we thought was past.

MS alone brings many burdens and hardships; ones that I’m not too proud to say are impossible to manage alone. Stubborn and defeated, I shut off (or at least I want to), and decide that I don’t have the energy to deal with anyone or anything that has nothing to do with my sufferings; for fear of burdening them with these sufferings or for fear of wasting my energies. Why do I do this to myself…to others? Of course I have no energy; I’ve spent it on fury – fury with my symptoms, fury with myself – why me? – fury with loved ones so far away. Now that I’ve realized my mistakes in communication and in not living the day as given, I’ve completed a full revolution and must resolve my course of action, break my circle, and mend my course of action towards others so that – perhaps, in turn – I may be answered.

Listen and Hear Me

Listen and Hear Me

Listen and Hear Me

How do you know when it’s all worthwhile? How do you know that everything you’ve put forth is right? How do you know when you’ll be hurt, or when you’ll be healed? How do you know what step to take next? Will it be for you, or for the collective, or some other incomprehensible congress? How do you know…?

Sitting – soaking – sinking into my thoughts; my insecurities, my fears. Immobilized by my own mind, though my body has already claimed this control, I feel lost and don’t know how to fix this; this feeling of gross uncertainty. I seek council, guidance, and support.

‘Help me, God,’ runs unbroken through my mind – thoughts of desperation. I reach out and feel nothing; out again, feeling walled. I retract my reach and wrap around to find comfort in myself – I will listen.

We call unceasing talk a “broken record.” But in saying this, do we in fact break the record? For though we communicate through sight, sound, body, and pen, it is the security of being heard – listened to and understood – through which we know our wondering can be finite; and if broken prematurely by impatient annoyance, risky leaps of a decisive nature are taken; some vital, some not. So listen and hear me; and I will do the same.

P . M . A .

P . M . A .

P.M.A.

Someone recently told me that I don’t have MS, and with assuredness told me that I actually have P.M.A. Stricken, choked, down-right puzzled as to why this person would say that to me after my very personal disclosure I instinctively raised my defense, building high its walls, and ready to rebuke this potentially false statement. Hesitant, however, I am to act out this defense so I look towards them, pain clearly drawn in my eyes. ‘Do you know what P.M.A. is?’ they question.
I reply, ‘No, what is P.M.A.?’
‘You suffer from a Positive Mental Attitude!’

I will not, without a doubt, ever forget this very surprising and uplifting conversation. It’s, now, roughly two weeks later and I am STILL going over it in my head and how this individual drew this about me from a mere 20 minutes of knowing me. What an impact this experience has had; one that continues to grow. I am stunned that someone was able to see my perseverance, my drive, to overcome having MS.

A large number of those I tell have the same response, ‘You’re too young!’

My answer to the congress: ‘No, I am not too young to have MS.’

To give the benefit of the doubt, I can understand this exclamation is not to tell me that I cannot possibly have MS; that I must be doing something wrong to be affected at such an age. I can understand it is a typical mode of sympathy, possibly routed from ignorance, primarily used to send along condolences without saying something that may otherwise actually be offensive, so I do appreciate the sentiment rather than feel condescended.

Today, this same P.M.A. individual said they like when I smile and when I smile at them. My father tells me, ‘Have a good day and don’t forget to let your little light shine’ – referring to the song This Little Light of Mine that I used to sing when I was young all the time (and I do mean all the time).

Hearing these positive remarks – P.M.A and like of a smile – assure me that I am indeed ‘letting my little light shine.’

I began this blog with the hope and the motivation to spread my experience with those who wish to read my words and to spread some light; for myself and for any others feeling drowned in darkness and defeat.

Going forth, I will most certainly add P.M.A. to my list of sufferings and credentials; and I will continue my education in the practice of shining positivity.

POEM – Silence

POEM – Silence

Hold me, Dear Silence.
Let nothing interfere.

The noise of this world
Brings nothing, but fear.

I curl and I shrink,
Trying to cover my ears –

Their sounds rumble around –
I feel they are near.

Now hold me Dear, Silence.
Hold me and steer.

Keep tight your reigns
And take ‘way my tears.