Poetry
Fibromyalgia | The Brain
What I’ve Lost
Moss covered stones
Rolling in perpetuity
A sacred space
Made of rotting wood
The safest corner
Stained in misery
As you might have guessed by the title, I have fibromyalgia. It’s something I write about regularly. Today this poem caught me on a particularly bitter day.
I have grieved and continue to grieve for the parts of me that have fallen to illness. The hardest loss to face has been that of my mental abilities. I didn’t come from a supportive family. The only thing I was good at was school. It’s where they placed my worth. I had no choice but to put all my eggs in that basket if I wanted validation. Even after graduating college, I tried to maintain my “forever student” facade. This would prove to be a short lived performance.
In late 2020, I began to show symptoms of what would later be diagnosed as fibromyalgia. The more my illness has progressed the more my capacity and capabilities have dwindled. Until recently this was something I refused to mourn let alone acknowledge. I refused to believe this is where I was at now. That I would never be able to do the things I used to do or if I could it wouldn’t be at my previous skill level. I don’t think I’ve fully accepted this. I don’t think I ever really will. It’s a battle that wages daily. And there is never a clear victor.
AVG
