June 2011 and I was running, races waited at various stops along my chucking tracks. I was blinkered, I thought my life was full, I was running, I was happy.
Eighteen months ago I lost my past, try it, its weird.
Its now June 2013 and I no longer run. The medals prove I finished races and the memories still exist but my past is gone, lost. I don’t remember what it’s like to train for an event, to hear my feet and heart pound.
Way back when I was fighting to regain my life I sat at my kitchen table and cried, I sobbed as a child refused a treat. Until finally, I hit myself about the ear, dried the stained face and vowed to move forward. Thinking I could at least settle for contentment until happiness returned along with my past.
On Friday, April 13th 2012 I was officially introduced to my new best friend myalgic encephalomyelitis. Funny what a day to pick for reluctant introductions. Like any best friend we fight. She shuts me up when I try to step outside my safety zone, hits me with pain and nausea just for fun and sits constantly near me, forever in my space.
We share a love hate relationship, she seems to love me as she never leaves and I, well you can fill in the blanks.
In all the strangeness of this wonderful illness and all I have been robbed of, my job, my hobbies, my life she has decided to gift me writing, it’s not a pleasing process. I wake most mornings with a poem in my head. Cool you say? My body tends to disagree, fighting with the words my body screams to continue with its 14 hour sleep, but the brain is erupting, refusing to rest until the notebook and pen are picked up and the lines thrown down.
Only then will she leave me rest and return to my treasured sleep. Maybe its some sadistic swap, she robbed me of my past and thinks these words will make up for it, as if a card sent to mend all. Right now the volcano is dormant and so I rob some rest and wait.