A place for stories about chronic illness, disability, mental health, and neurodivergence.
The Magazine
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Unfortunately, my brick wall has become smaller over the years, or less high, with bricks softer in their sable paper texture, more dissolved overall. Some bricks have hidden, tiny holes the size of my little finger on my left hand, where I let some people in. Some people who get in, without a little struggle…
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What can I appreciate in thismoment?The days, minutes,secondswhen I don’t tastemy own stomachin the backof my throat,bile biting with its sinistersheen of sickness.When I can SLEEP,Glory Hallelujah SweetJesus.Six hourswithout waking upso I don’t choke onmy own vomitor shit the bed.When my mind isn’t spinning faster than my fingers can typeinto the search bar:What’s wrong with meWhat’s wrong with…
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It has been five years since my face collapsed on one side and an emergency room physician diagnosed me with Bell’s palsy.
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I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but after three years of psychotherapy with Dr. M, it was time to let go.
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I’m stuck at the traffic light on Yale and Colorado and I’m thinking about the size of the nail, the nail the Romans hammered through Jesus’ feet.
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