I’m sharing one of my pain poems,dilaudid
Sometimes the current event is that pain takes precedence over everything and you can’t get groceries or feed yourself or do much of anything but compose poems in your head that might make sense when you see a light out of the nightmare. Many of these poems don’t make it to the point that I feel they are ready to be published. Talking and writing about pain feels like an open wound, and that exposure leaves your level of pain up to be critiqued, or having others question your health choices, your medical (mis)management, or the validity of your pain. Some will start some oppression olympics stacking their health crisis against yours. It’s an ugly world.
Also raw is talking about depression and suicidal thoughts. There is this rawness that often people don’t want to be exposed to. There is also this way of thinking that writing about suicide and depression is being inauthentic because we have survived and somehow writing about it is worse than being depressed, not being held, not finding comfort (yes these are real conversations I have had with friends).
?#?thefutureisdisabled? inspired by Alice Wong and Disability Visibility project at https://disabilityvisibilityproject.com/
“and time’s like this
it’s hard to love you body
I’m running out of dilaudid
that wasn’t even mine”
(Image-Doves Cry by Noemi Martinez)