February 19th 2019

There are distinctly two different mes. I am forced to love them both.

One side can get out of bed in the morning, have coffee,get dressed.

The other me can't lift her legs out of bed. Shes a prisoner in her own body. Shes so full of medication, the world spins around her. She uses all her strength to shower. The first shower in two days. Her hair has finally been washed. She rubs body cream all over, even though her own hands on her skin hurt. The movement hurts. Standing becomes difficult. A clean dress instead of pajamas just to feel somewhat normal. Back in bed she goes. The next hurdle is to rehydrate. She fights back tears many times today. Sometimes the tears win.

She's back in bed now, just wishing she could find the strength to get out of bed again. Comb her hair. Try to eat. She wants her children home with the normal her. She wants another dinner like last night. Happy. Healthy. Living. Because today isn't living. Today is trying. Coping. A test of wills. It's ugly and she wants to hide it and smother it down until the other side comes back.

It might just be an odd prayer of sorts. The kind that asks for no pain tomorrow. Maybe this time the clock will strike midnight and the pain will be gone. Five AM will come and she will get up, get dressed, have coffee and be able to conquer the world and do all the things she loves. All the things she lives for.

I dont want to show the ugly side to the world, but I can't hide it. I can't hide me.