A Wily Truth

Dear Audy,

Thank you for sending me such kind thoughts after my last post. I wish that I could react and respond like a strong person, but I am just a noodle with dried out edges.

Writing by talking ruined me. My face just stopped working after that and decided to spend all of its time spasming, swelling and relocating its movable bits. Speaking is stupidly painful, both for me and for the listener because I sound like a toddler who hasn’t learnt real words yet. It’s like life was watching me summon all of my strength to simply communicate and so it cackled with power and then sent a bit of extra struggle my way.

It has been almost a week since I last smiled, or made a facial expression that was not physically torturous. Wearing my glasses adds a layer of painful pressure, however not wearing them and attempting to look at things adds a layer of painful vision. Basically, just having eyes is hard for me right now, they hurt my jaw.

I type this with my stinging fingers. An act of defiance against the silencing.

An act of victory over the recent month of hands that wouldn’t move at all without blowing a little bit of my brain out of my ears.

Typing hurts and I will pay and I will probably get angry and frustrated about the fact that I can’t even do this without severe consequences, but then I will rest and reframe my perspective and remember that I need this. I need to write.

I need to make some sense out of my mind garbage and feel connected to the world.

Occasionally, I can hold a pen and so I scribble in a journal. Mostly swear words and nonsensical rage, just to let off steam and get things out of me. I used to feel release from such venting, but now I wonder if ranting hinders me from letting go of things that I can’t change. It feels like using energy to reinforce negatives, rather than focusing on overcoming those nasty feelings that arise from dealing with this failing body.

I no longer have the ability to write enough words to afford to waste them by going in rage circles.

I prefer to write to you, Audy. Sometimes it’s because I want to be heard and sometimes it’s just because I need to express myself in a way that’s more than me alone in my head. Blogging forces me to try to explain with some sort of eloquence, rather than just ramping up my rage by repeating problems with a loop of profanities.

I’m not just writing to you, I’m writing to me. Blogging is a way for me to step outside the bubble and tell myself some wily truths.

Truths like that one, right there, about the rage ranting that doesn’t help me and the more thoughtfully constructed writing that does.

And there we go, I do feel a little bit saner now.

Love & Persistence,

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  • 3 thoughts on “A Wily Truth

    1. Della

      Precious girl, I feel like raging against your body too, for treating you so cruelly! It’s so hard to wage war with your own body! Especially so when it also affects your ability to think. I am praying for relief for you.

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