You write beautifully about your challenges of adapting to chronic illness and pain. Hard though it must be, your writing reveals how much you are valuing and appreciating the beauty and stillness available to you.
I do not have any chronic illness but for unknown reasons, I have gone through (and continue to) episodes of deep depression most of my adult life. I’m now 63 and over the years I’ve gradually come to the realisation that rather than struggling against & trying to “fix” my depression, acceptance is really the only path. I’m not for a moment suggesting that whatever you are going through isn’t far more difficult and painful and so I fully understand that it will be really difficult to keep working at acceptance. But to me, your writing indicates that you are already doing it. I send you many hugs.
A couple of years ago, during a particularly dark depressive phase I wrote this poem, which I want to share:
I was so touched by your reply. Your poem is an invitation to surrender and I felt myself falling into it and through it and allowing its truth to wash over me like the sea. My deepest thanks to you for sharing it and for taking the time to share your thoughts and your own experience.
Yes, hard as it may be, the way forward is always the path of gently accepting the present moment, however dark it may seem, in all we do not understand, in all our not knowing.
Wishing you the kind of peace that exists in the midst of it all.
Speaks to my soul. I have hEDS and POTS, Hashimoto’s, everything hurts all the time and always has. It’s getting harder and harder to cope and keep going. The response is always “you’re too young to be in this much pain.” Uh, yeah Doc, *why do you think I’m here?!* I am still trying to find a doctor who will listen and help me get a diagnosis (my older sibling has been dx).
Hi Miranda, I wrote this a couple of days ago; perhaps this will offer some resonance. I'm not sure it's finished, but I'd thought I'd share it anyway.
Appreciated, thanx - will let you know if it grows into anything further. Am glad I found your Falling Tree. My poetry chapbook from 2021 is titled 'Falling Slowly' :-)
Thank you so much, Terry. I’m so grateful to know this lands for others - a poignant reminder that we are not alone in our experience, even when it is lonely.
we are with you, Miranda Ruth.
What a wonderful response to receive. I took it to my heart and let it sit there. My deep gratitude to you, Elena.
Dear Miranda,
You write beautifully about your challenges of adapting to chronic illness and pain. Hard though it must be, your writing reveals how much you are valuing and appreciating the beauty and stillness available to you.
I do not have any chronic illness but for unknown reasons, I have gone through (and continue to) episodes of deep depression most of my adult life. I’m now 63 and over the years I’ve gradually come to the realisation that rather than struggling against & trying to “fix” my depression, acceptance is really the only path. I’m not for a moment suggesting that whatever you are going through isn’t far more difficult and painful and so I fully understand that it will be really difficult to keep working at acceptance. But to me, your writing indicates that you are already doing it. I send you many hugs.
A couple of years ago, during a particularly dark depressive phase I wrote this poem, which I want to share:
DARKNESS
is only a compression of light
so dense that it seems
to pull everything into it
so that there is no room
for any movement, any quiver
of breath or meaning
an emptiness that is packed
full of absence; simultaneously
an arrival and a departure.
but darkness is also presence
a container for buried longing
a place of deep resonance
a time of timeless width
where pilgrims stop to rest
and seekers relent
to the relentless cycling
of the wave upon the sand
and the stars in the night sky.
darkness can seem harsh
and yet so infinitely soft
it is an endless unravelling
an abandonment of self
that which feels abandoned
yet is always, always found
in the waiting stillness
where shadows swirl
settling in myriad patterns.
the veil of darkness covers
just as much as it uncovers
gently embracing loss
even as it deftly hides pain
in the unmaking of being
where desire seems swallowed
but is actually unspooling
like the ongoing whirling of
every dervish who danced.
the darkness is my unknowing
and something of my knowing
in a world that confounds me
as certainly as it awes me
and knowing gets in the way
of remembering the awe
as it takes me to places
where darkness obliterates me
as we obliterate the earth.
~ js ~
I was so touched by your reply. Your poem is an invitation to surrender and I felt myself falling into it and through it and allowing its truth to wash over me like the sea. My deepest thanks to you for sharing it and for taking the time to share your thoughts and your own experience.
Yes, hard as it may be, the way forward is always the path of gently accepting the present moment, however dark it may seem, in all we do not understand, in all our not knowing.
Wishing you the kind of peace that exists in the midst of it all.
“I have fallen away
from the world
and I don't need
to find it again.”
Speaks to my soul. I have hEDS and POTS, Hashimoto’s, everything hurts all the time and always has. It’s getting harder and harder to cope and keep going. The response is always “you’re too young to be in this much pain.” Uh, yeah Doc, *why do you think I’m here?!* I am still trying to find a doctor who will listen and help me get a diagnosis (my older sibling has been dx).
Thank you for sharing your writing. 🩷
I know the pain of POTS too. It’s hard. It’s a strange journey, chronic illness. And yet, writing is the most extraordinary medicine.
It is hard. And I agree that writing can be incredibly healing. 🩷
i was just diagnosed with chronic pain/fatigue and as your last name twin, i appreciate this so much ✨
Wishing you all the healing - and many quiet moments in a sunlit garden 🤍
Hi Miranda, I wrote this a couple of days ago; perhaps this will offer some resonance. I'm not sure it's finished, but I'd thought I'd share it anyway.
Wild beauty of lesions
held in its layering
of scars; tissue become
a resting cave of pain,
in its shredded remains
now bloodless, and vague
I like this a lot. Quiet and powerful. Thank you for sharing it.
Appreciated, thanx - will let you know if it grows into anything further. Am glad I found your Falling Tree. My poetry chapbook from 2021 is titled 'Falling Slowly' :-)
Heartfelt writing in a sincere personal human voice just beautiful thank you.
Thank you, T J! I’m so grateful for your words.
I felt everything in this.
Thank you for your words. I’m so glad that this piece is connecting with other people, reminding us that we are never alone.
Thank you for the beauty of your words, the loneliness and loss of hidden chronic illness is so graciously articulated here.
Thank you so much, Terry. I’m so grateful to know this lands for others - a poignant reminder that we are not alone in our experience, even when it is lonely.
The above poem as it appears here on Substack:
https://jayasreesrivastava.substack.com/p/darkness