Heavy

Believe me,

I don't want to be a burden,

But it hurts—

My body,

My brain,

My soul.

Every piece of me is struggling,

Every fibre of my being just trying to hold it in.

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I'm tired

From all the admin,

All the appointments,

All the tests,

All the trying to get people to listen—

People whose job it is to make you "better",

Not believing you at your "worst."

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And if, for once, I might feel okay,

Feel like I can have a moment just to rest

Without the pain driving into my psyche,

I feel like I don't deserve it,

Haven't contributed,

Haven't worked,

Haven't earned it.

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And then the moment's gone,

For a day or a week or a month.

Sometimes it feels like forever,

And each time it's getting harder

To remember what it was like before those moments,

When the moments were the normal,

Without the looming cloud of dread

That soon there might not be any of those moments left.

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I don't want to be a burden,

Believe me.

But that's all I feel I am.

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Joanna spends her time split between toddler wrangling, medical admin, and pretending she could survive in her current fantasy read (she would immediately get KO'd by gluten or stairs). Her "chronic ramblings" have been a way of venting frustration about life with multiple chronic illnesses and all that goes with them. You can follow her on Instagram.