Day 8 of 31 Days in August, “Hug Me” 

Day 8 of 31 Days in August
The Chronic Illness Collection of the PTSD Poetry Project 2016

“Hug Me”

Remembrance often escapes me

It is as if all I had been

Is only an act of remembrance

Someone I used to know

Someone I used to be

Now I practice to remember

Short speeches to share


And practice

And practice some more

It is a heavy lifting act

My mind finds difficult

To remember how to do

All the practice in the world

Derails immediately with interruption

I find it easy to let go

In spite of not wanting to

Let go of the prepared portion

Move on to the written word

My words

My thoughts

These are the easy ones

I can fall into them

Let them fly free

Along with the emotions

I really can’t express

Day to day

In opposition to these

I have forgotten how

To allow people

To get close to me

To touch me

This day was one I was hugged

I was touched on the shoulder

Spoken to like a real person

Wait, aren’t I a real person?

Yes I am..I have seriously forgotten how to be


Hand held while spoken to

The first hug of the day set the tone

I allowed myself to be open to others

I listened and smiled

Remembered names

At the end of my day

I hugged someone

After years of no interaction

I spontaneously hugged someone

A stranger to me

Somewhat familiar

The person I am

The person I was

Is finally beginning to break the surface

I pray all the hugs

Will allow her to take a deep breath

Of this crisp, fresh air

And simply hug another human being.


August 3, 2016 

Personal journal

       Remembering a speech or introduction is a fleeting act for me. In spite of much practice, out loud in the card, in my studio space (where there is an echo) and in my kitchen, a mere interruption can derail what I had prepared inside my head. I can easily read out loud my written words or even read a book out loud with ease. This part has become a simple thing to do. I get lost in the words, how I want to say them. The inhalation, exhalation of my breath is nearly instinctual.

      But to prepare and remember a very short ‘speech’ of sorts is a heavy lifting act inside my mind. All it can take is a small interruption and it slips away into the mist. Gone as if it were never there. It’s taken an entire year to even fathom being able to memorize anything at all. Now, when it’s all a perfect world with no interruptions? I can do it flawlessly.

       Yesterday was not that day.

       But the prepared part? The easy part? I can get lost in those words in a way I know I never did before the brain injury or the M.S. It seems to be easy to read with passion, emotions hanging out there for all to see and to allow my emotions to bubble forth. Day to day I can’t even begin to reach these places.

      This all encompassing heat of the summer is flaring my M.S. so badly. I’m exhausted all the time and parts of my body which never hurt let me now know they are not okay. I nearly nodded off yesterday in the heat of the room where I was waiting for my turn to step up to the front. I was distracted with the sweat slithering down my back, how my shirt was sticking to my chair and the acceptance of the earlier morning group. I’d been hugged quite a few times that morning. Something I never allow to happen. Someone to touch me? This has always been very triggering for me.

       Yet it set the tone for the afterwards moment when a man came up to me and let me know how my words effected them. I hugged them and was surprised I had as it seemed very natural to have done so.

      Perhaps, in spite of the heat, the brain injury and the M.S.’s flare ups there is a lot more healing going on than I would have suspected.


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