I Am Special (The Thoughts Of a Spoonie)

My life is measured by the spoons I am handed out daily. Some days are lucky, other days I am short on supply. It’s as if my mind is in a different world. I am physically here, but it’s impossible to keep my head grounded. Constantly spacing out, forgetting who I am, what I do, and my purpose. I feel extraterrestrial. Lost among these streets that I walk on.

I keep it all to myself. If I complain about a symptom, others would tell me it isn’t that bad. They will tell me how they feel, then continue to complain about their lives. Concerned about unimportant events that can be easily brushed off. They don’t see or feel what goes on the inside, so they assume that I exaggerate on the words that I tell them. You do not choose to be this way. I could complain, but I choose not to. It is hard enough to remember my name. I often have to teach myself daily how to love the people in my life let alone myself. I don’t have time for complaints anymore. I lose interest in conversations that begin with the letter I in every sentence. It would be nice enough if that letter was joined with the letter U.

No one knows what goes on in my head, I don’t even know what goes on in my head. I am surprised that I am still maintaining a healthy lifestyle. I challenge myself daily and I measure my days. I separate what I can and cannot do. A spoonie is limited. I am special. I often joke about how I am not human, I need a laugh or a two to help me get through the day. I see that my sense of humor have not left. Other days I cry because again, I am limited. 

Limited on what I can and cannot do for the rest of my life. I have conversations about babies. It makes my heart smile to hear stories about women and their children. I have dreams where my own future children would visit me. I love them so much, although I have never met them. I just know one day I will be able to love someone more than anything in this world. I have baby fever from time to time until it hits me. I, once again am limited. That is when I cry because I am not human. A human is able to give birth to another human.

 

There are days when I just need to cry to myself. I bottle too much on the inside.

This is just one of those days.

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