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Fog, Wall, Monday

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Mondays descend on me leaden heavy. The time returns to keep track of myself, or at least
try to.

The weekends are the reprieve, there is company constantly.
I know I am difficult, regardless of how I try to not be: difficult to communicate with:
Not understanding, not understood.
In the moments when I manage to be fully present, I wonder what it is like
to have chosen someone so different
From the one you chose.

I am trying so hard to heal.
I am trying to not fight my body, I am trying to not wage war with
this unending pain, this deafening confusion.
I am trying to believe, and to feel, that I will be fine.
I am trying to be grateful that I am alive, that at least most of our family survived this.
I keep thanking my elbows, the only joints that do not feel like they are being pulled away from me
by some unknown evil force.
I keep begging every other joint to take heed.
I keep begging my head to just stop aching.
I am trying to find the lesson, the message.
I am trying so hard to heal.

There is no question that I believe in positivity.
There is no question that I have healed before, and damn well at that.
I don’t know why this is so much harder;
I just know that most of the time now,
I do not know much of what I knew before.
I exist in a hazy tunnel with walls made of fog,
and every time I awake from a daydream
I cannot recall a single thought of it.

Mondays descend on me leaden heavy.
I am off to be encapsulated in oxygen.
I am off to try again.

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About Ariane

Chef. Organic snack food brand founder. Lover of fresh produce. Raw food fanatic. Mother of three cats. Poet. Married to the best woman out there. City light painted girl. Serial sprouter. Holistically healed survivor of chronic Lyme and chemical poisoning. www.ArianeCooks.com

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