I
woke yesterday morning in the dark. Around me was an ominous and
oppressive feeling of grief. It filled my lungs so quickly that I
could not even scream out, I was drowning on sorrow.
There
was this most awful realisation, one that I avoid contemplating too
deeply most days, that the world is beyond the glass and stuck behind
it, I am trapped like a wounded bird. My wings are broken and my
flock has flown away. The loneliness in my heart aches so deeply I
wish I could cradle it and whisper to it that you are not alone and
you are loved, but it cannot hear me and it does not feel what my
head is attempting to persuade it to believe.
Over
the last few months I have experienced some of the hardest times in
my life. And the anchors that hold me together, my friends online,
my healthy friends, I have mostly been unable to manage connecting
with. I am too fragile, too consumed by fighting to exist. Every
single moment is a struggle, every breath a weighted heavy sigh,
every step a painful uncoordinated dragging limb, every fall into
paralysis another inch closer to permanency, every seizure more
painful, every bronchial spasm more brain starving and every reaction
to chemicals a gamble on anaphalaxys.
I
have been fortunate to have medical gurus in my journey. But I am
now alone on my travels. Only one left an unhealing festering sore,
the doctor whom promised me a life and then told me dispassionately
that I should tie up loose ends, write a will and seek out palliative
care. The other doctors have been my stewards but obstacles have
meant that I am now mostly without them and in this moment, this moment of
grave illness, this moment when I am so terrified I cannot breathe,
in this moment where my eyes leak as my body mourns the loss of all
my safety nets, in this moment of utter vulnerability, I find myself
alone.
There is so much to carry, so much to learn and I cannot walk nor can I find answers. My brain is unwilling. This
broken winged bird has thrown herself against the glass too many
times, breaking more tiny bones and finding only again and again that I cannot will the world to shape itself into how I wish it to
be. In this second decade of fighting, failing and picking myself up
day after day, I find the dark more and more inviting.
We travelled to the hospital not so long ago, they looked upon me as though I was nothing, they endangered my life, they withheld my medication and they ignored my pleas for help. One of the doctors, just one of the very many who looked upon me was kind, the rest ignored my very obvious, very grave, very dangerous symptoms and history with a cult like investment in the bland paradigm that allows them to behave so inappropriately within a severely deficient system.
We travelled to the hospital not so long ago, they looked upon me as though I was nothing, they endangered my life, they withheld my medication and they ignored my pleas for help. One of the doctors, just one of the very many who looked upon me was kind, the rest ignored my very obvious, very grave, very dangerous symptoms and history with a cult like investment in the bland paradigm that allows them to behave so inappropriately within a severely deficient system.
How
does a broken winged bird stuck behind the glass, drowning in sorrow
and grief get help? How does she find hope that has buried itself so
deep within her soul that even her eyes look haunted by the loss of
it? How does she uncover a reason, even one, to keep fighting?
Because she's been on an excavation, picking over the ruins of her
life trying to keep the dazzling, bright and shiny moments in focus,
but they have all faded to grey and resettled themselves amongst the
rubble.
Banality
tinged with torture, judgement for her imperfect grace, she cannot
carry this load alone. But she is not alone, I wish she could hear
me. I wish her heart would feel the messages of love that come from
the world, through the glass, even if she can't hear them.
Broken
winged bird, I wish I could promise her a better tomorrow, and yet I
cannot bring myself to lie to her. So I must let her fall down,
drag her broken body into a dark corner and lose herself in grief. I will not let
her drown. I will help her excavate the rubble. I will fight for
her despite the fact she is me and wants to give up. I won't let
her. But I cannot do it alone.
So
I ask of you this, please do not let me slip through your fingers.
Do not let me give up. Do not turn away from my vulnerable truth. Do
not let this system stand. Fight with me, fight for me, fight along
side me, help me fight.
I am not the only one. We are many,
the broken winged, flightless birds, stuck behind glass, perched on
the rubble and ruin of our lives. We are many who fight and flail
gracelessly just to get through the most torturous of days you could
ever imagine in our imperfect ways. We only wish to survive this
moment and the next. We do not always do things the way you would or
the way you think you would. We don't always do what you think we
should. We are not you, you are not us, but we are all perfectly
imperfect.
Before you judge us, imagine yourself without all the things you've come to take for granted, then imagine you are trapped, you can not turn and walk from this moment or every moment to follow for decades to come, imagine you are so incredibly lonely your eyes leak rivulets of tears that drown you in sorrow, imagine your very existence is so torturous that it seems impossible to be alive and then imagine no one sees you. Imagine yourself alone, terrified, defenceless and gravely wounded. Unless you are a broken winged bird I don't know if you can imagine such desolation, so perhaps just hear me when I say when your life is obliterated and there is no end to the war on your body, and you have no army to protect you, your flock has left you behind, you were delaying them and so they left and now you will find yourself doubting there is any reason to go on.
So
please take this pledge with me so that together we might will the
universe into bringing about a change for all of my fellow broken
winged birds who I gently cradle in my hands as I whisper love and reassurance to their
hearts, chase the haunted shadows from their eyes and gently blow
hope and laughter into their lungs:
Broken
winged bird, I will fight for you. Broken winged bird, I am going to
promise you something, one day you'll take flight, you'll soar aloft
the beautiful dazzling moments of your life that are yet to come and
your heart will beat in time with the collective conscious of loved
ones who you will get to touch and love and hold and laugh with.
Broken winged bird, even when you hate yourself, hate your life,
wonder if you should bother with fighting another day, another moment, even then know this, you are
loved. Now breathe in the light and breathe out the sorrow.
I
will be with you tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that. You are
not alone.
NB please click on the image to be taken to the website of Theo Aartisma who created this beautiful evocative piece.
Love you to the moon and back. My words of always saying 'perfect words for timing' don't do justice. we're all connected. a soul pod. I believe we're on a mission Marzi, some go through the depths of darkness and despair to bring light. and in no way am I throwing away your life through that expression.
ReplyDeleteIf I could embrace your cheeks with my hands and tell you that I love you, then that is what I am doing, right now xo so to speak..
Zabi
We are on a mission. And we're going to fly together one day.... soar and swoop and ride the breeze. And really enjoy love and life and each other.
DeleteI loves you and I whisper to you cradled in my palm, with your delicate broken wings, I love you, I love you, I love you ♥
ps; I dreamt of birds last night.. they were sad birds. today I saw some 'broken' (injured) birdies at the beach, too. x
ReplyDeleteA sign perhaps? xxx
DeleteAs a sign of gratitude for how my husband was saved from stroke , i decided to reach out to those still suffering from this.
ReplyDeleteMy husband was diagnosed of stroke and it was really tough and heartbreaking for me because he was my all and the symptoms were terrible, he had difficult speaking , and he always complain of muscle weakness and balance disorder . we tried various therapies prescribed by our neurologist but none could cure him. I searched for a cure and i saw a testimony by someone who was cured and so many other with similar body problem, and he left the contact of the doctor who had the cure to stroke . I never imagine stroke has a cure not until i contacted him and he assured me my husband will be fine. I got the herbal medication he recommended and my husband used it and in one months he was fully okay even up till this moment he is so full of life. stroke has a cure and it is a herbal cure contact the doctor for more info on drwilliams098675@gmail.com on how to get the medication. Thanks for reading my testimony
The image is quite vivid. It's really great.
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Your writing is quite impressive.
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Make hope a choice. Say it loudly, again and again, even if you dont want to.
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