I Really Can’t Function Without Him: Life Update + Poem

My poor husband is in the hospital with pancreatitis. He’s been there since Wednesday & to say I’m struggling is an understatement. No one’s sure why he has this. The only thing that makes sense right now is that it’s due to him having covid-19, since he doesn’t drink alcohol. He’s in high spirits through the pain & keeps assuring me he’ll be okay. Of course my anxiety screams at me more when I’m all alone with so much fear surrounding me. I cried nearly all day yesterday. It had to happen. Tears have been building up inside of me for months now. I have a bad habit of numbing out. Then I break down & I break down hard. So far, I’ve gotten back up each time & the fact that I’m even writing this & had a productive night getting chores done means I’m starting to rise up again. I never know how long these good moments will last. I live with chronic pain. I’m mentally ill. We’re in a pandemic. The world is madder than it’s ever been in my lifetime. My love is suffering & away from me, & I’m all alone. Of course I’m not okay. I have trouble fathoming how ANYONE is okay right now. I become aggravated at the “la-di-dah” approach. Going on like it’s all just fine & dandy. I’m not judging. I just cannot understand that right now. I’m glad people are able to be productive & positive, but I can’t sit here & pretend to be. I’m definitely not. I’m just trying to survive every day & if writing happens, thank God.

I know I’m not pleasant to talk to right now. I know I don’t ask for help or really know what anyone can do to help because I’ve had a lot of toxicity in my life that makes it difficult to trust others & also, feeling like a burden is the worst. So, I keep a lot in. I’ll disclose some to close friends but I know they can’t do anything for me but listen & I don’t expect them to do more than that. I appreciate everyone in my life. I hope I show that enough. I had plans to “get myself together” writing, reading, & life-wise in February, but I’ve gotta just keep being broken for a bit. I can’t think of anything else other than my husband right now & even if I do find myself able to to do something else other than sit & worry, he’s still on my mind. (God, please…help him to be okay.)

I’m sharing an old write today. We had a desert snowfall again Monday & it was magical to see. I was reminded of the poem I wrote the last snowfall I saw here in Las Vegas two years ago. Hopefully, I’ll be able to write more instead of staring at blank pages or blinking cursors. I had this big flux of drafts, none of which I’m too proud of at the moment, & was pretty active with Twitter poem prompts then all of a sudden it just stopped. It’s not like I don’t have a plethora of pain to write about, the words just aren’t there. There’s some submission deadlines coming up I’d like to make, but we’ll see. As cool as I think it is to be featured or published, it’s not something I’m able to work as hard as others do on it, & I’m fine with it. I have to be or I’ll just give up on writing altogether. I can work when I can. I can’t when I can’t. That’s just the way it has to be.

Thanks to all my fam & friends who’ve been so supportive & here for me through these few months of complete life chaos & hardship. It’s been awhile since everything has dumped on me all at once so I should be thankful for that. I’m still here, just hardly at full capacity. Pray for us. My husband & I greatly appreciate it. ❤

Drifts

I called you from a landline,
complained of scrolling
making me feel sick
and you sang old songs
to remind me that
once the present
was a glorious thing

When I dared look up
I noticed it was snowing
and I asked if you could hear it
beyond noise pollution,
if you could see the stars
anymore, or just light pollution

I said I was sad
because I had no solutions
for a world gone mad,
and you said “roll with it”

We’re tides, but we can never
combine     —      I,     eroding sand,
you,       lapping, living water,
pure and in danger

I hung up and my hands
became liquid,
all tangibility
slipped between my aching fingers

I cracked them like ice,
and remembered that each day
is a sacrifice,
and when breath is visible
it clouds wounded eyes

We had a sky, we had late nights,
we had time, and we swallowed it
like a capsule

Forever watchful,
regurgitating reminders
into our ears until the sound
resembled
the forgotten ocean

I’d drown to hear you describe
the way the sun danced
across the blue again,
I’d die to have you
back again

Silence is a sound
you can feel,         the absence
of you,         the snow kissing the ground

(2019)


Thanks for reading! Have a great weekend!