Day 18 of 31 Days in August, “Rebel Against Change”

Day 18 of 31 Days in August
The Chronic Illness Collection of the PTSD Poetry Project 2016


“Rebel Against Change”


Some things are held within the mist

The cool mist where certain things hide

Others are out in the open

Easy to touch

Easy to hold

Easy to reconnect with

New things represent change

I am fickle regarding change

I want to change

Yes I do!

I really do!

I embrace change!

I love change!

I smile on the outside as I say this

Inwardly however…

I secretly hate change

Things which used to be a weekly treat

Now escape me

I still pursue them

Even when I know

I should probably let them go

When I read the official version

Of who I used to be?

Even I am impressed

No wonder I can smile

No wonder it seems easy to socialize

Inside I am trembling

Wanting to hide away

Stay in the cool mist of forgetfulness

Now I push to remember names

There are still questions of which is which

When I cannot remember

When I laugh and should not

When I want to cry…and still cannot grieve

Which is which?

Does it even matter anymore or at all?

There are no black and whites in my world

There is only an endless multitude of grays

And even within the the gray are depths of color

Not seen by the normal eye

These are the moments which interest me the most

As I rebel against the change which consumes me

The layer upon layer of the unnoticed subtle colors

Which represent the change inside me

This change I secretly hate

Yet allow to mold me

Into this new creature

Who continues to smile

In the face of the changes

She forces upon herself.


***

August 18, 2016

Personal journal

       Days went by without end. Or at least it seemed that way so long ago. The night was full of sewing or crocheting while I still could. Sometimes I would read all night long. Now I rarely read. It’s difficult to maintain the flow of the story inside my head unless I read all the way to the end all in one day. The library, which had been a treat each week to go to since I was a child, became something held inside the mist of the past.

       Life changes. It moves on slowly and surely in a healing path for some things, others remain stagnant. No one seems to embrace change and I’m no different than most. I rebel against change for the most part. Yet some changes I dive into with an eager spirit.

       I fear I am fickle when it comes to change and especially now I know I am as I push myself to socialize again. Perhaps this is the biggest of changes where I have to push even as it seems to others to be easy for me. When I look at my resume I see I had to have been social to do the work I used to do. High end interaction with the public. Do I remember how to smile and be pleasant for the public? Yes? Do I remember how to interact with people in a personal one on one way? Not really.

       This is the conundrum of the mix of brain injury and Multiple Sclerosis. Which is which is always the question. Is it the brain injury or is it the M.S.? This seems to be the unanswerable of all questions. When I can’t remember something simple, especially short term issues I will question this each time. When I begin laughing and can’t stop at the not funny of things I question if this is the M.S. and not the brain injury.

       Really in the end it doesn’t matter.

       It is what it is and I still move forward in spite of the questions which remain unanswerable.

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