Year of Wandering

A wrote this poem at the end of last year as I was closing in on a year with the Headache.  I decided to throw caution to the wind and go ahead and share it here on my blog:

Year Of Wandering

Rachel Phillips, 2009

A year of wandering

through a maze, a mist, a fog

I lost my way

Then I lost myself

Separated from the person I'd been

I fear at finding the stranger that replaced me

How do you trust a stranger?

Constant Pain has become my companion

A rude, brazen partner with whom I'm forced to travel on my journey

A temperamental sort, his mood changes on a whim

For no known reason, his irritation with me becomes a torture

He's disliked, unwanted, hated.

I beg, I plead for help.

Desperate for someone to unlock these shackles that bind us together

But where's the key that will free me?

It seems lost or perhaps these shackles were forged with no key, with no means of escape.

I cry, I scream inside.

I sigh, breathe

Again, and again.

I tell my core there's nothing to fear, that this is only pain.

There's no real danger, no reason to run

No way to fight this opponent

If only there were a way to run away from it.

But how do you flee or fight an opponent that unseen? 

Invisible, unknown, but his presence acutely felt

An unquantifiable existence that remains hidden

But always sensed, always perceived

I'm never alone.

This stalker won't leave me

it's kidnapped me, held me hostage

taken away all that's me

stolen my freedom, my mind, my personality, my soul

A predator that's attacked, raped

Will I ever escape?

I don't know.

I wish I could be alone with myself again

For now, I have to figure out how to make this dungeon a home

how to live with this Phantom

How to make peace with the imprisonment

To accept it

To try to appease him, to find out what make him so angry

Maybe somehow I can learn to exist here

Perhaps I'll get used to this dungeon

I'll try to tell myself it's a beautiful open room

high on a hilltop, with a gorgeous view of lands faraway

Of my wonderful Vermont

I have to make myself believe it

Force my mind to be at peace

Nothing to fear, nothing to fear

No real danger.

Another deep breath, a swallow

a deep breath and a swallow

Relax and let it hurt

Relax and let it hurt

Relax and let it hurt

Relax and let it hurt

Please, someone, help me find the key

that will allow me be free again.

I'm trying to find a new rhythm to my life

one that I can manage as this new stranger I've become

I've found my best isn't good enough anymore

So I try to adjust the rhythm of my life to fit what I can do

I'm forced to change my expectations.

I'm diminished in my own eyes

This stranger can't keep up with the person I've always been

The face in the mirror looks the same

But behind that veil

A profound change

It's agonizing to lose a life-partner that's yourself

I try to make peace with it all

My hopes are fading for ever getting back the person I once was

Maybe in times to come this stranger can become a surrogate

Perhaps I'll get to know them and find we can get along

and even develop a friendship of sorts

But I still grieve for my lost self.

In my pleas for help I realize the awful truth, 

that I walk alone in this nebulous existence.

I see well meaning hands reaching towards me

trying to assist or offer reassurance.

But no one can face this torment in my stead.

I try to hold onto these outstretched hands

but the grip is slipping, slipping

Am I losing my grip or theirs?

I try to grab another hand before blackness overtakes

A moment of hope 

A brief connection

Then sweaty palms slide again leaving only a desperate attempt to stay connected

by grappling fingers

But my fingers are too frail...

My little finger dislocates

It's all just too much.

I tumble.

Which end is up, down

swirling, twirling

I'm inside a gyroscope that's spinning

out of balance

But I try to smooth this ocean surface so that these inner waves are unseen

The whitewater torrent remains hidden under a placid calm

Maybe this calm will permeate and quiet

the underlying rapids

I have moments when I'm at peace

When I can cope

and I try to walk ahead with life

Undulating waves of incessant pain

bring fear, anguish, despair

I feel a resolve beginning to grow in me

that this will never change

fear feeds this melancholy state an insidious poison that the pain will grow

and I wonder

what part of me will break next?

Without the hands that continue to reach towards me

to bear me up 

to reassure

to steady me

to persist, persevere to offer hope

to hold onto me 

even when the last of the strength in my fingers fails to be able to hold to them

my spirit, my soul, my heart would truly be broken

The self-sufficient, independent being I was

is now forced to be reliant upon

an interwoven tapestry of family, friends, support, love, community

just to continue to

be.

Maybe sometimes just continuing to "be" is hope enough.