Sometimes, I get mired in quicksand. I worry, and I know it's a sin. It is the hardest sin for me. I worry about what to eat. I hate food most days. I eat to live, if I didn't have to, I wouldn't. Acceptance is not a nice friend right now. Honestly, I don't wait or like to. I expect my body to listen. Not happening. I am not sated with my body. Satisfied or content, I'm not sure. I don't know who I fight more. I am trying to be more positive. That is a work in progress. I don't know what I'm fighting more: the answer or the outcome. It's almost four years of this journey. I don't know what else to call it. I wonder if I still have anything left to say. If it's worthy. Then we get to numbers, but it's not that or is it. The number feeds my ego. Thinking you have made it, and then come to find out you make it daily.
This may not be popular, but here it is. I have discussed politics because if I don't say something, no one else will. It is isolating, frustrating, and wonder if it matters. I didn't ask for this, did God give me more than I can handle? Ask Him. The fact is humanity has left me in a quandary. Does Disability disqualify me. Or does it give me a look into the world nobody wants to be? Sometimes positive is saying yes to a reality you didn't choose.
In 33 years, some days fight is a word I fight. I go down the hole of no return.
I fight battles I want for no one.