Moonlight

Well this silence is odd

It’s comfort

How foreign is that

 

There’s this strange

Light dance

Dizzying in my chest

 

I love it

Can I keep it?

Change smiles softly at me

 

It will be back

Once it leaves

I Promise

 

by Daphne Shadows

 

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I Exist

I don’t need a good excuse

I exist

Therefore I have the right to be

 

 

By Daphne Shadows

 

(Don’t forget, we’re human beings not human “doings”.)

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During Therapy

“I know of people who are bedridden. I’m not saying I’m not grateful.” I smirk at her. “You know I’m a lot more grateful now, than I ever was. I see the greatness in my life, the potential, options, beauty, goodness.”

I look down, play with the black tassel of the zipper on my bag. “I fight it. I don’t think I’ve accepted it, how it affects me, controls me, every day.”

My therapist smiles softly. “How do you fight against it?”

“Struggle to be awake, to focus, to get rid of a chronic illness, one of many. It’s like I’m filled with lead in a world of people filled with helium. And I’m sitting here berating myself as if I’m only being lazy.”

“And how would you be if it didn’t affect you?”

I shrug. “Without ME? I’d have energy. Suddenly not be affected by it at all. Be able to focus and be part of my life. I actually like life now. I want to be here for it. Instead I’m sleeping it away.”

“What do you think you’d have to do in order to stop allowing ME to affect you?”, my therapist asks.

My laugh is short and without humor. “Be God.”

 

She laughs and smiles. “You’ve got it.”

“There are only two things you need to know about God.” She holds up a finger. “One, there is a God.” A second finger. “Two, you aren’t God.”

 

“You’re experiencing a lull, yes. But it’s normal.” She responds to my concern. “Life does this. Humans do this. It’s like going to college. At first, you’re excited, you’ve got your eye on the prize – your degree, your desired job. Freshman year is a breeze. But then it gets hard. The homework. The papers get harder. The professors, the lack of sleep.” She looks at me, kind, clever, and all-knowing as ever. “You’re somewhere in your sophomore/junior year. Keeping going.”

“Right,” I agree, nodding my head as I think it through, “life is always going to be hard.”

I brighten a bit, a troubling issue illuminated. “You’re right. I’m doing everything I need to be. I’m taking care of my responsibilities and striving to do better at being kind to myself, accepting myself for who I am. I’m finding ways to enjoy my life. I eat some froyo and deal with the minor migraine later that night. Then the next day I go back to eating the way my SIBO having self can deal with, without regretting or getting down on myself for indulging. I’m still trying and in many ways succeeding.”

I smile to myself. Take a deep breath in, let it out.

“My depression and anxiety are just taking me through a detour. I’m still on the right path.”

 

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Before Therapy

I’m about to go to my therapy appointment.

Feeling a bit… shall we say… internal, today.

Self-analyzing, philosophical. Quiet.

I’m also truly there again.

Not completely, it’s only a minor slope. But it’s a definite downward lull.

 

Dead.

Void.

Don’t care.

But then again, I do.

Why else would I feel on edge?

 

Depression and anxiety feed off of one another, trapping me between a rock and a hard place. An immovable object against an unstoppable force.

 

I’m find joy in multiple things today.

I do.

I feel joy in the lesson I’m about to prepare.

Joy in the donut I’m going to eat after I get back from therapy.

Joy in the book I have to read.

The dog staring up at me with big brown, curious, loving eyes.

My family.

Joy itself.

Life itself.

The options, choices to be made.

The possibility that I could work on my writing today.

 

Even though I probably won’t.

I don’t have any energy. It’s not just physical. Emotional energy. I’m out of it. I’m not certain if its depression, anxiety, or ME/CFS. Perhaps all of them at once. But I’m drained of the ability to move, motivation, energy in general. The strength to lift my limbs. The world is a murky pool of molasses, my body a thick, awkward figure of solid iron and cotton balls.

Not of desire. I’m not robbed of that. I want to create. To work on my writing. To piece together my lesson. I feel inspired.

 

What’s the point of all this blogging stuff going on here?

Is this post relevant?

Is it pointless?

Am I complaining, yammering, going on and on about myself?

Or am I connecting?

I’m not entirely certain.

 

I have these moments.

Where I’m outside of myself.

Wondering, what am I doing?

 

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Weird Dream

I had the strangest dream the other morning.

 

I was asleep in a house with my entire family. They were in the living room together. I was down the hall in my room, half asleep. This was our home, had all our stuff in it, and only our family lived there.

Lebron James walks out of the room next to mine and goes into the living room, dripping annoyance as he says, “If Daphne doesn’t wake up soon, we’re not going to be able to watch the movies.”

 

Weirdest dream ever.

Seriously.

I dream about people eviscerating other people; creatures chasing vulnerable people and attacking with sledge hammers and foot long, thick fangs; falling in love with (very attractive, human looking) aliens; the world ending with just me and my dog left; falling, hitting the ground, and flying.

I wake up and think woohoo! Great story ideas, hurry up and write this down.

But that?

Definitely my oddest dream thus far.

I don’t even watch basketball.

I don’t know anything about Lebron James except that he plays the game!

 

Since I started taking medication for depression and anxiety I’ve been dreaming. A lot. I didn’t used to dream except now and again. They started out really uncomfortable bad dreams, but now they’re great for my creative writing self!

 

Had any strange dreams lately?

 

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Co-Existing

There’s a hard place inside me

Nothing cruel

Or cold.

A void

Where none can hurt me.

Not warmth

This is a solitary place.

These moments settle into me

With a velvety grace

Lace against bare skin.

Moments

Where I’m lost.

Not a haze

Nothing stings

Perhaps I do hurt

But I can’t find my way.

Life becomes

A thick paste

I do not understand.

 

 

By Daphne Shadows

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Napping is a Skill

One which I am well practiced at.

 

 

I also like Snoopy, just in case you’re wondering. (Not any of the other Charlie Brown characters, only Snoopy and Woodstock.)

What can I say, Snoopy is a writer and a napper. He also enjoys food and yet never gains any weight.

And you know, he’s a dog.

All around the best qualities.

 

I wish I could eat whatever I wanted and not gain weight. Then again, don’t we all. 😉

 

I have Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (or Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) – CFS (or ME) for short. I sleep a lot.

I love napping.

And its really very healthy. Some places have a rule where you break for lunch and take a nap. Google even has adorable little sleep pods. Though, I’d personally like a wee bit freaking lot more privacy than that, just gotta say.

Napping helps you be more creative, more mentally aware, and capable of performing labors and mental challenges with efficiency and accuracy.

And the writer in me is telling me that ^ sentence could’ve been way more eloquent.

 

Anywho – do you nap?

Why or why not?

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