A Crack In My Armor

A burst of pain
Like fireworks in the dark
Shoot through the sky
and rain
With all its beautiful spark…
A flash, a stab
In my consciousness thrill
Of misery
I have
The merry colors spill…
The echoes cry
Drumbeats trapped in my mind
And smiles go dry
yet why
A teardrop’s  all I can find…
The silence fades
And drowns the noise within
The quiet ache
A harmony of death means… 

I wrote this during one of the worst headache episodes last week. It was around 2:00AM. Everyone was sleeping. I already took some painkillers, but the pain wouldn’t subside and allow me to go to sleep. Part of me was scared that I was about to die or something. Part of me was hoping to get it over with and just die. I was already pounding my head on the wall, but stopped because I did not want to wake up anybody. My skin was already getting irritated with the topical peppermint oil, but I had to grind my teeth and chose the lesser suffering. Thankfully, my psoriasis did not manifest and obviously I survived that night.

I’m still not out of danger, though my daily visit at the drugstore’s automated blood pressure machine shows a slight improvement over the past days (with occasional bad spikes). A lot of friends have been supportive, both morally and financially. Forcing myself to be personally strict with my own diet seems to be one of my biggest challenge – especially since my current residence doesn’t allow me a space to prepare my own food, and permissible viands are not readily available. And as much as I would like to take someone’s advice of talbos & kamatis, I doubt my hunger would be satiated by it (although the dull pain is helping me lose appetite for almost anything).

Still, what pains me is depression. Or maybe slight bouts of manic-depressiveness and/or bipolarity. I feel trapped between a desire to be left alone, and a desire to be taken care of. I wanted to be alone because I don’t want to be a burden to anybody. I wanted to be alone because I don’t want my friends to see this weak phase of me. I wanted to be alone because I don’t want to add more worries for my family – the very fact that I intentionally try not to inform them of my struggles here. I wanted to be alone because I don’t want to be seen as clingy, dependent. I wanted to be alone because I don’t want to expect companionship – and be disappointed…

Yet I wanted to be taken care of – because I, as a fellow human being, realize my own frail existence. I wanted to be taken care of because I know that there are things beyond my control, beyond my ability to adapt and survive, beyond my meager resources. I wanted to be taken care of because no matter how hard my protective shell may seem, I am nothing but a soft marshmallow inside – vulnerable, vincible, vain. I wanted to be taken care of because I don’t want to feel neglected, forgotten, abandoned…

Should I stay expectant? Should I confront this challenge in brave solitude? My armor is broken… Lord, be my shield.


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