Read from the start.
Where am I?
What does it mean for something to be “in your head”?
Not this again…
I don’t know what it means, but I do know that it was enough to make me completely useless two days a week for a couple of years. It was enough to make me lose a lot of weight, and not in a good way.
I now know that the barriers in your head can be very real, in some uncertain sense, and they aren’t always easy to get rid of.
Just because something’s in your head, it doesn’t mean it’s not stuck there for good.
Maybe I would’ve been fine with cushion if I skipped the pills and went straight to injections, but I can’t know that now.
Maybe one day it will be fine, and I’ll be able to take it again. But right now, in this moment, I have so far failed to overcome my nausea towards it.
It’s not all failure though.
There were certain barriers in my head that are no longer there, like my fear of needles. And I feel much more confident to navigate through the health system and its various—
I’m only doing okay right now because of the generosity and compassion of people around me.
It started from the children in my class, looking out for me and willing me on, and the— and my teammates too.
And then Max offering me this life changing leg up into the tech world, in his usual patient way.
And all the nurses, especially the blood test nurses, for making me comfortable and making me laugh, even at my most nervous moments.
And the Subway lady! It was nice seeing a friendly face, welcoming me there every time.
Of course… it would have been completely different without my partner putting up with me at my worst all of that time, springing into action at the drop of a hat, turning a miserable moment into a memorable one, turning bad days into good. No one knows me better than her.
And my parents and family for all the care and caring reminders and all the breakfasts, and for keeping me company outside my window when I caught covid every single christmas.
I can’t miss her off, the marvellous Dr Gravy! Always looking at me over her sunset glasses. Yes, yes, you know her now.
Nowadays, our conversations are quick. There’s no pain to report, but we still do our checkups.
“And how is that all going? The hormones and whatnot.”
“Oh yes, you know. All good.”
“That’s good.”
“Well, aside from all the politics stuff, that’s all.”
“Yes, quite.”
I used to feel bitter about my— I felt so jealous of people who didn’t have to experience all that pain and scabbing and vomit. And a pathetic repetitive mantra got stuck in my head:
“God gave me nausea.”
And I don’t believe in any kind of god, so I don’t know why I said that, again and again, every time I struggled, and it got stuck in my head, and I couldn’t get it out, much like my nausea.
Over time, the bitterness subsided and I saw things differently. Rather than making me jealous, my experiences were a less-then-gentle reminder of how fortunate I am in so many ways. Rediscovering the ability to walk without pain made me so much more thankful for my ability to do that. I am so much luckier than so many others.
I don’t pity people who have things worse than me, because I know how awful and patronising that can feel, to some extent. But I know that we all have our own challenges and difficulties, with our bodies and our lives and whatever it is.
I really don’t want to come across all high-and-mighty about it! Especially as I know how privileged I am. So I am trying to learn how to express myself and my experiences and feelings about all this in a way that feels right.
What I know is:
I didn’t ask to be born, and I didn’t ask for this condition, but I have no choice about it. I only have my body, one body, and I can only be me. I can’t be anybody else.
God gave me nausea,
Maybe he’s just sick of me,
Now every day,
It feels like I’m,
On wobbly sea.God gave me nausea,
Maybe it’s just all a test,
Could the scabs and red,
The days in bed,
Be only to,
Enhance my strength?God gave me nausea,
Maybe he’s my enemy,
Could I break up into,
Heaven to,
Hunt him down,
And take my revenge?God gave me nausea,
And there’s only one of me,
He ruined all,
I have,
And now,
I don’t know who,
Or how,
I want to be!God gave me nausea,
He keeps my poem out of time,
The tilted steps I take,
Reflected in these,
Too long,
Too short,
Often unbalanced lines.God gave me nausea,
Maybe he’s just sick of me,
Now every day,
It feels like I’m,
On wobbly sea.
Back to the feed.