A Poem: I Don’t Know
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when this pain is consuming me.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when one minute I’m fine and the next I’m not.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when the world I’m supposed to function in treats me like an outsider.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I’m supposed to go out in the world smile, say hello, and be polite, but I used all my strength on some days to just get out of bed.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I go to the hospital, the place that’s supposed to help you feel better but makes you feel worse because they automatically assume you’re there to try and get high.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when they treat me like a friend just because you are aware of what medication works for you, and you’re aware of your pain asking all types of question just to see if my story will change.
I’m assuming if I had visible injuries that caused the pain, that would make everyone want to understand my pain instead of dismissing it.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I cry myself to sleep many nights because the pain is too much.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when a child pose is a position that provides comfort is no longer comfortable.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when stretching is supposed to help but I can’t even touch my toes.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
with all these uncertainties and inconsistencies.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when the pain makes me angry one minute, the next I’m sad and frustrated.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I’m supposed to mask the pain daily and keep pushing because if not I’m wrong or lazy.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I try to keep my game face on and be there for everyone else and help them unload their burdens when the ones I’m carrying are weighing me down.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I’m staring in the mirror and I’m no longer staring back.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I wish I could grind like others chasing their dreams and building brands but physically I can’t.
I wish I could work full time or multiple jobs like once before, but now I have to come up with other ways for income that requires less physical work.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I’m afraid to open up to others in fear of exposing this part of my life.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when working an 8-hour shift makes you feel like you worked 12 hours and you completely tap out.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when life keeps happening and I’m still trying to adapt to this, what works and what doesn’t.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when every few months I develop new symptoms.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I have no safe space, a place where I can just let it all out.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I’m supposed to always be strong and no space to be vulnerable.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when I’m spiraling because this mental battle is overwhelming.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,
when this chronic pain gets the best of me.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.
Become a STRUT Contributor?
You can share your story on our platform as a featured contributor with credit or anonymously. Fill out the form today.