Broken, not broken enough…

My broken is not broken enough
to get the help I need
to stop the bleed

of endless co-pays and medical bills
of supplement costs
of specialist fees.

any adventure I manage to have
any life I squeeze
any pleasure I tease

from this tattered body and shattered dreams
becomes the reason You see
to refuse the need.

my broken is not broken enough
i should be deteriorating more
lying prone on the floor

or screaming in torment and pain
unable to enjoy a thing
enterally suffering.

my walk with the dog around the block
isn’t a sign that I’m lying
i don’t have to be constantly crying

to need help and support
from my village
it isn’t my intent to pillage

i would work if I could.

You would see the food thrown to the crows
rather than let it slip
through my lips

because it might have been earned with your labor
and You never need a favor
everything You have You worked for.

You personally paid for the street that was laid
for your car to traverse
on your way to work.

And the water You mindlessly drink
from your kitchen sink
comes from your well

dug with your own hands at your own cost
You got nothing from us
never even rode a bus.

My broken isn’t broken enough
to stir empathy
in your heart

You lack the sympathy
to understand
You won’t lend a hand

You are your own man.

Fair weather dreams…

I dreamt of friendships in the past,
of broken hearts
of dice miscast.

I dreamt of dreams I barely kissed,
the stars I reached
the ones I missed.

I dreamt of you-
my fair weather friend,
the one who vanished in the end.

I wonder how I can miss you so
and still question why you chose to go.

MMorehead 2020

Self Care = Work

It sounds so relaxing doesn’t it? I’m going to practice self care. It sounds like bubble baths with a good book and relaxation days at a spa.

It doesn’t sound like forcing yourself to eat when you are nauseated or to exercise when every nerve in your body is already screaming or getting enough sleep with insomnia or taking a shower when touching your skin hurts you.

It doesn’t sound like applying for SSDI or acknowledging your disability or cancelling plans because you are over taxed. It doesn’t sound like doing laundry or making your bed.

That is what self-care is. It is doing the hard thing for yourself because you know it will make the rest of your day a teensy bit better.

Really it’s self-work. It’s adulting. It’s setting boundaries and learning to say no. It’s making your space pleasant for you so when you are forced to spend a lot of time in it you aren’t looking around thinking about all the tasks you should be doing. It’s making doctors appointments when you need them and avoiding triggering foods.

And sometimes it’s getting a massage when your skin can’t handle being touched because the underlying muscles need it and if you are lucky you might have relief in a few days after you deal with the bio-feedback from the massage.

And it’s missing the days when a massage was just a massage instead of a medical treatment.

And it’s acknowledging it here on your blog and then letting it go.

Much love to my spoonietribe. Keep on keeping on.

Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons