You know you’ve been playing The Sims too much when you hear a baby cry on TV and automatically think “they’d better go look after the baby in a few seconds or the social services lady will come and take it away”.
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Today I was reminded that I’m actually pretty laid back and that most of the time I don’t worry about little things, because the bigger things I sometimes worry about (yanno, like death and shit (sometimes literally shit)) make other smaller worries pale in comparison. Sometimes I forget that’s what I’m all about, and am in need of a reminder – I’m glad I got that reminder today.
Life has turned you into a jumper
and not the knitted kind
but the kind of jumper
who jumps at the chance to pick up a knife
or miscount your dosage
and if I had known life was going to turn out this way
I would have told you never to grow up
but what good is a time machine now?
I am awoken by the call of a wood pigeon.
I don’t know what the call is regarding,
and neither does he. It doesn’t matter.
I think he’s trying to tell me that
a good day is ahead.
I believe him. He should know.
I drove past the Marie Curie
Field
of Hope
today
and almost every daffodil
was
dead.
Almost.
Hello! I have set up a Patreon account for my poetry! If you don’t know what Patreon is, it’s a subscription service for creators. Readers can pledge a certain amount of money per month (anything from $1 or more – it’s up to you!) and get access to exclusive poetry by me, available only to subscribers. That’s stuff I don’t put on my Tumblr (https://www.writersam.co.uk) or anywhere else. There are some cool rewards as well for people who pledge $20 or more per month, like a free copy of my poetry collection when it comes out, and more!
The link to my Patreon is https://www.patreon.com/writersam so please take a look, and if you’d like to read more of my work I would love it if you subscribed. $1 per month is less than a cup of coffee, and the benefits will last like, loads longer. I would love, love, love to make my writing a full-time job, so if you do subscribe, I cannot thank you enough!
Much love,
writersam
Sometimes it’s okay
to write a poem and then
throw it away.
You don’t need to keep what kills you.
okay can we just one last thing
spreading the idea that one is only triggered when having a full blown, system-shut-down panic attack is damaging and delegitimizing to people who have physiologically and emotionally different reactions to…
Great validating post on triggers. Speaking of which, I’ve been doing really well lately. I’ve been really happy with myself. I haven’t thought about cancer or Lynch Syndrome much for maybe a month now, and when I have, I’ve been able to let thoughts drift into my head, then let them go and move onto something else. And it’s been something I’ve instigated, like looking on the LS Facebook page, and then been able to stop thinking about easily. Until Sunday, when I answered the phone to a cancer charity who have been calling me every day for the past two weeks.
I had been avoiding answering the phone partly because I was worried about the conversation being a trigger. I finally answered it and the guy on the line asked me why I had previously agreed to donate to the charity, to which I replied “personal experience”. I was then pressed further – “someone close to you?” “Myself…” “What kind of cancer did you have?” I probably should have just said mind your own business or something, but I just went along with the conversation. Then the guy started talking about his cousin who’d had cancer, and had suffered with a low immune system due to the treatment, and did I have that problem too? I didn’t think so. Apparently it was really difficult because nobody could visit his cousin if they had even the sniffles. That does sound difficult and though I sympathise, I don’t actually remember asking. I’ve had the charity (maybe not the same charity, thinking about it) call me before and they’ve always been really nice, but never as personal as that, with their questions or their own unsolicited anecdotes. It was all very strange and a little triggering, and also turned out to be totally unnecessary because they wanted me to donate regularly, which I do anyway.
So. I think that’s the reason I’ve been finding it a little difficult to catch my breath a few times over the last couple of days. Breathlessness caused by stress, I think. I’m just going to have to try really hard to kerb my thoughts and not slip back down that hill. It’s only a setback if I let it be a setback, right?
Isn’t it interesting how we can talk to and sympathise with each other about bruises, broken arms, accidents and so on, but we can’t do the same with things we really need to talk about, like life-threatening diseases? I stepped on a plug last week and spent the following days walking around like a drunk hunchback in slow motion. It hurt. A lot. But I didn’t really mind at all. So that’s where this has come from.
I don’t want
sympathy for sciatica
because I know what it is
and it’s not much to me
and what’s all the fuss over a foot?
A bruise, a cut, it’s nothing much –
soon it’ll be nothing to me
I don’t need tuts and shaking heads
for being unable to drag my leg out of bed
Anything I can see is no real issue to me –
a twinge is no big deal
and pain is okay to feel
if I know its rhyme and reason
But fear is the worst pain
Fear is the sharpest stab in my side,
the most familiar ache
I would welcome a broken arm instead
A fracture is just that – a fraction of a problem
So I don’t want sympathy for sciatica
I don’t need support because of my limp
or anything solved by sitting down
because none of that will drive me underground
We haven’t even left for work yet
but already I’m thinking about
coming back home to you.
