Once upon a time, I:
– danced with a ballet company, and felt like a sculpted racehorse,
– effortlessly memorized lengthy scripts in the theater,
– thought nothing of hiking 20 miles round trip, to fly fish,
– worked 60-hour weeks,
– travelled internationally,
– considered myself a Jeopardy whiz,
– crafted elaborate masquerade costumes, stained glass windows, and mosaic artwork.
– I sit in a reclining chair, on good days,
– rest in bed, on bad days,
– block out bright lights; avoid noise,
– try to focus on something – ANYTHING on my body, that doesn’t hurt. (Today, it was just my hair, and my left ear)
– search for simple words that elude me,
– choreograph and dance ballets, in my mind,
– cry, only to get a headache,
– hope for a cure,
– pray for pain relief and sleep.
The me I took for granted, has disappeared.
I don’t like her discarded shell, that I’m held captive in.
Fibromyalgia/ME/CFS since 1991.