The snows today
from the first light sifted flour
without wind to the now
medium flakes falling
through pockets of calm
between being whipped
by the wind into swirls
sudden direction changes
making me dizzy.
This too shall pass
it won't stick because
it's still November
and tomorrow will be
warmer. But you still
have to clean off
your car today.
Last week I was a tad self-destructive. Not enough water, a lot of rage, not enough time to write, too much frustration and helplessness, avoiding going to bed because I know I won't sleep: All these things add up to some increasingly poor decisions when combined with increasing pain and decreasing sleep. How could they not?
I don't want to spiral down like I do sometimes. I don't want to get stupid at work and say dumb things because my filters crumble at a certain point of sleeplessness. What I don't want to do, I do. Alas.
On my birthday, I got a letter from OWCP informing me that they received the letter I sent at the end of July about my address change, and they're sending my file to some coding person or something for review even though the last time I called, the claims examiner clearly indicated that she was the one who accepted or rejected new codes. All I had to do was call and talk to my claims examiner's supervisor to get any kind of response after the messages and talking to other people didn't work. I'm so tired of this.
Their letter crossed mine on the way. Mine was longer, more specific, and a great deal more emotionally involved.
What do they care if it takes
over three months to acknowledge
and process an address change?
What do they care if my doctors
have been trying to add codes
and get bills paid since February,
so I can get treated and maybe
decrease the pain a little? It's not
their bodies that feel the pain
or their hearts that get smashed around
by inconsistency, misinformation, threats,
and delays. They don't lay awake at night
or have to try not to cry at work when pain
spikes hit. They don't have to pay off
my school loans for the next thirty years,
the ones I took on to educate myself enough
to get a good job even as a cripple,
something their website claims
is their responsibility but that they refuse
to do in practice. What do they care?
I don't want to be bitter. But at times like these, I can't seem to help it.
Another year older,
another year of pain,
no better at coping
but somehow still sane.
Maybe that's all we can dream of. Anything else is just icing on the animal cracker.
Written by an exhausted chronic pain suffering writer who thinks too hard about things like art, anime, images, nature, books, manga, scars, quotes, music, work, authors, financial desperation, joy, beauty, humor, and whatever else catches her scattered attention.
Her blog’s name comes from the title poem of her ridiculously long thesis “I am like the moon in autumn,/ losing sleep as summer fades,” which came to her whole while she was driving home toward the moon one November early evening. (The title, not the 450 page thesis. Alas.)