What a Spoony Sees… The Reality of Invisible Illness.

Pain, pain GO AWAY,

Come again some other day.

I don’t want to sit here bitchin’,

I need to crack on with my stitchin’.

I’ve got a pile of WIPs to do,

How can I, when I’m feelin’ poo?

My head is pounding, kids are yelling

Even my name, I’m strugglin’ spelling

The house is a tip, the washing piled high

Visitors call, they wonder why.

The reason you see is my spoons are low,

It’s difficult cos I don’t CHOOSE to go slow.

My pain is restrictive, distracting, intense

I’m grumpy, I’m weepy, I mean no offense.

The sun outside shining up high in the air

I want to take kids out and play without care.

I love them so deeply I don’t want want an excuse

To justify why I’m almost a recluse,

But whatever I do I must calculate well

or tomorrow and rest of the week will be hell.

For ONCE, to wake up and have spoons to spare,

Hopes of mornings like this I do not dare

Cos my pain is part of me, love it or not.

I’m not perfect or flawless, I am what I’ve got.

Maybe one day I’ll wake up, not need to count spoons

And run around giggling, real fast, like a loon.

Without fear of tomorrow or later tonight

When my spoons suddenly vanish, far far from my sight.

For now, I will settle for patience enough

To not be bad tempered with those that I love.

Inspired by The spoon theory explanation of “Invisible Illness”