UnEdit

I was going to do a well thought out post today. Explain that I came home sick from work today. And calmly relay to you how terrible I felt about it. But I think the piece I wrote for my other blog might explain it better for you.

“Feeling  smaller and heavier as the days go by,
Counting minutes of the hour
With shaky hands over paperwork
Forehead against closed fists I try to stay calm.
Deep breaths, and ginger ale.
Finding a pill for sleep, a pill for nausea, a pill for this or that between my fingertips.
With hot cheeks and hot tears I can’t remain calm.
And frustration with myself and the body I don’t control sends me home.
“I can do the day” is my new mantra,
But it tailspins into a backwards version,
And dizzy head and dizzy heart I leave the bathroom.
How do you tell your coworker who says you’re looking down today,
The words stuck beneath your tongue,
Behind that stupid, fragile smile,
That you can barely manage to arrange on your face anymore.
The house still rumbles when the bus goes by,
And the fan still hums in the corner.
He held my ribs together with his arms.
Passed me kleenex and said I can talk if I want to.
I got out two sentences and then focused on breathing.
I’ll just focus on breathing. “

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