A Poem of Goodbye, A Poem of Hope

Yesterday late morning, I sat in the lobby of my library drinking coffee out of one of my favorite cups and got lost writing a letter to a friend. Taking a break I flipped through the pages of my notebook and found an old poem I'd begun while still a patient at Mercy. I say begun because at the time no matter how hard I tried the feelings and message I was trying to convey refused to be spun into words. I now think that its because those emotions were still to new and choppy, to full of doubt and hesitance to be formed into something as substantial as words. In the battle over my mind she was still largely in control. I wasn't sure recovery was possible, didn't know if it was what I really wanted. Yesterday though, the words finally came...

I said goodbye and magic happened

I broke free and now can fly

I can see love in moonlight madness

And know peace in starry nights

My kitten purrs and joy abounds

Book pages turning bring delight

Scents of cooking now are comfort 

And coffee brewing sets the world right

I said goodbye and magic happened

I said goodbye and found myself

I said goodbye to pain, to sadness

And said hello to happiness

I want to be clear that the fact that I was able to finish the poem now is not a sign that I am rid of her influence. It will be a long, long time before I am completely free of her taunting voice and attempts to trip me. I still have to fight every day, and an actual update on where I am with that is coming. The struggle is less though and her territory of control dramatically diminished. Writing this poem I realized that I no longer have moments where I miss the darkest days of her reign. That's huge. When I think of where I was a year ago, of what routine she would push me through on Friday nights, the relentless death march she ordered each Saturday, and the Sunday morning torment I had to look forward to I shudder. What I now am up against is the comfort of the fight itself. This blurry gray area that allows her the more than occasional win - where I push myself harder than my body deserves in a workout, where I pick a safe food over one filled with nerves, where I still feel guilt with every bite of food I take. This has all become a familiar dance and one that I, at times, am reluctant to let go of. I got this far though; there's a lot to be said for just that. And one day, one day, I'll get to the point where all I am is me.