The photo of the storm came from a long distance friend who has a live-in roommate known as Multiple Sclerosis. She shared this image as a way to show others what she feels on particularly bad days. Luckily, those days don’t happen often, but the MS roommate’s outbursts can be intense. She is a mom to wonderful adult children. She attends school and works and volunteers. And she has a very angry roommate. Using the image she shared, along with descriptions of her good days and her bad days with MS, I created this postcard for her, to describe to others who have never shared her roommate experience. To realize that she, and others with chronic conditions, are not defined by it. She has just a few more issues to deal with before she moves on to being an awesome human being.
The Monster Under My Skin
I do not live alone.
I try to be alone, but just when I think I am by myself,
I feel it.
The monster under my skin.
Without warning it awakens,
Pulsing and breathing on the back of my neck.
I spin to look and all I find is darkness.
Then there is a flash and I see inky black bubbles boiling to the surface.
Purple eyes stare at me as a reflection in a mirror.
It pulls its nails across my back as it embraces me,
Paper cuts on a poison ivy rash.
I can't look away. I can't run away.
The monster is inside me even when it sleeps.
Sometimes it hibernates for weeks, months,
And I forget about it, only to be surprised with claw
Gripping my arms
Dragging me to the floor unprovoked
Insisting I focus all my attention on it.
So much pain, like the tearing of paper inside my flesh.
I try to fight, but the pain.
I try to flee, but the pain.
To breathe, to even blink, but the pain.
The monster hides again.
I clean the mess it leaves behind, the mess that I am, and I carry on.
And I wait for the next visit
From the monster under my skin.
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