At Least I Woke Up (Graphic Content)

I woke up this morning
in a pool of sweat and blood
shaking, my mind let me know
that I was awake
and my blood pressure
must be pretty high then I
woke up this morning in
a pool of sweat and blood
shaking with pain in my lower
back that let me know
that it was one of THOSE
periods where I bleed
and bleed and bleed
and bleed for days
I think I must have done
something wrong to deserve
this I must have been a mass
murderer in another life
blood for blood I woke up
this morning in a pool of
sweat and blood shaking with
pain and feeling panic as my
heart pounded out of my chest
shaking me out of a fitful sleep
as my panic attack
subsided I woke up this
morning in a pool of sweat and
blood shaking with pain and
feeling panic and the heat
from my elevated body temperature
I’m an ice baby, always cold,
so I sleep in so many layers under a sheet
under a thick comforter at least I
haven’t bled through all the layers.
The midwives ask me how many ounces
of blood am I losing?

Enough to feel dizzy when I stand up
Enough to feel weak most of the day
Enough to panic when I see a full pad with a full tampon
Enough to do inversions, what is it?
Day 4 of this shouldn’t this end soon?
Enough to reduce me to this snarky, irritable,
weak human who is overwhelmed with life
when I can’t afford to be like this for
two more days.

I woke up this morning in a pool
of sweat and blood in pain and panic
hot and exhausted from sleep
I want to not be a cutter in my mind
My mind tells me it would calm me down
My mind tells me it would make me feel as if
the pain is real instead of imaginary,
but this pain is real and not imaginary,
my mind is still sick and always will be.
My mind, should mind its own business.
“Go make some blood cells, the right shape
this time, not these funny sickle shaped ones
you keep producing, every now and then.”

I wanted to believe I was going to get well
one day. Mentally and physically I want to
be healthy, but I want to leave this place
of lead, ants and anger. I am impatient.
We have the house, why can’t I pack fast
enough to be away from here?
“Survey says…”
“I have a fraction of the strength and energy I need.”
“Good answer! Good Answer!”
“Bing”
“99 people surveyed agree!”

Thursday, I packed two kitchen boxes.
Friday, I had to beg my bear
to help me fold up my clothes
and put them away. I felt like crying
but I just fell asleep instead.
Saturday, I packed four boxes.
I feel like I’m moving backwards.
It’s never enough and I can’t focus.
I have to save my eldest son.
No! I have to help my son learn to survive.
When your mind chemistry makes you feel like this,
a waste of space, you have to keep going
on and on and on and on in spite of yourself, myself.

I’m so confused and overwhelmed
Ugh, what a miserable piece of writing.
I’m not pulling punches Margaret,
happy with the unadulterated me?
I’m not. I miss me.
I’ll be back when everybody wakes up.
Fake it until you make it.
More like, take your morning cocktail,
get out of bed, shut up and do something about it.
Get the damn light box and
stay in front of it for two hours,
take a bath, eat some food,
go outside no matter the moisture-
you won’t melt unless you really are a marshmallow.
Even if someone sees me, honks or throws a rock
(no one has ever thrown a rock,
but fear tells me they could, they might,)
this is crazy. I feel crazy. Why?

Today is my tall child’s birthday.
He is 15 today.
I saw him and celebrated with him on Friday.
I bought him a phone, for selfish reasons.
He asked for it for Christmas and
I couldn’t afford to give him what he wanted.
His father wouldn’t give him what he wanted
for unknown reasons.
So for his birthday, I gave him,
not close to what he wanted,
so he would politely accept the gift, (he is the polite one)
but exactly what he wanted
so I could see the look of happiness on his face.
I’m going to hell.

I told him there were no strings attached.
I can’t take the phone from him,
erase it or use it as bait.
This is the child who is very specific in his few requests.
When he had to wear glasses in kindergarten,
he wanted red frames, it was his favorite color.
Not brown with a red tint, not burgundy,
but fire engine red.
Just once I wanted to be the parent
who gave him the awesome gift.
I have been poor for so long.

I’ll be a crispy chicken tender where I’m going.
More like a small basket of chicken wings
I don’t have enough body fat to be juicy.
I have hopes of being a Superbowl snack to
a demon when I die. What kind of sauce would
go well with Amanuensis? I prefer, honey mustard,
but most people like barbeque or Jalapeño. It
wouldn’t really be my choice, so why quibble.
“I go better with a mesclun salad, mandarin oranges
and honey mustard sauce, just sayin!”

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