Welcome to a new corner of Beyond Migraine, one that has nothing to do with symptoms or treatments and everything to do with the parts of me that exist outside of any diagnosis.
Poetry found me back in seventh grade, when Ms. McLean handed me a Robert Frost poem and something in me just clicked. I have written on and off ever since, filling notebooks in seasons of joy and shoving them in drawers during seasons I would rather forget.
Lately, though, that old love has come roaring back, and I have missed it more than I realized. These poems are going to be about the people who hold my heart, the places that shaped me, the winding roads I have traveled, the invisible battles I continue to fight and the trials that tried to break me but did not quite manage it. This is me, unfiltered, saying things in verse that I could never quite say the same way in prose.
I am so glad you are here for it.
Drowning: A Chronic Illness Poem
I feel like I am drowning,
As I’m rocked by the stormy sea.
Chronic Illness consumes my life,
Never finding peace for me.
Everything seems heavy.
Even the simplest things in life
Become another mountain to climb,
Another reason for more strife.
I do all the right things,
Yet it all just stays the same.
This just seems to be the cost
Of playing the Chronic Illness game.
Some days I barely keep afloat,
Water rising to my chin.
Every wave steals something else
Before I can begin again.
I swallow words I cannot say.
I chase a breath that won’t come free.
The tide keeps pulling at my feet,
Trying to make a home of me.
I’ve bargained with the morning light.
I’ve pleaded with the setting sun.
I’ve searched the shoreline for a sign
That this battle could be won.
People standing safely ashore
See only what breaks the tide.
They never feel the undertow
That drags me from the inside.
Still…
I have learned that rising isn’t
The same as never going under.
Sometimes strength is simply breathing
While the waves still crash like thunder.
I don’t conquer every ocean.
I don’t calm each raging sea.
But every time I surface again,
I reclaim one piece of me.
Tomorrow may bring another storm,
Another wave I cannot choose.
But I have become someone who knows
There is courage in refusing to lose.
Not because the sea grows gentler.
Not because the pain has gone.
But because even in deep water…
I am still here.
And today,
that is enough.
I discovered Hollie McNish when I was at my worst in chronic migraine. I’m so glad I did. I realised that sometimes, just playing with words, putting them into a rhythm, is its own kind of medicine.
Keep writing. 💛
I’m waiting for your (poetry) book! (With as much patience as it takes for you to do it at your pace)
My family is trying to get used to my quiet time alone in a dark room. (Evan if they think I'm going 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇