Beyond Comfort

detail of painting on wool flannel


Waking this morning I looked at my basket of supplements neatly concealed by a white linen cover laid atop the too many bottles in a Shabby Chic kind of way.


Can I actually open my mouth one more time and throw down my gullet all these supportive measures supposedly keeping me functional?

Then there’s the insidious creeping of neurological dysfunction into my left side which has been my “good” side

And this scares me.

My butt has met my wheelchair seat too long now and has lost that lovely fleshy insulation I used to hate.

How times change; I want my butt back, Goddammit!

What is left of me after all the “I don’t want to’s” and questions like: “Where is the old, lighter, funner, muscular, spontaneous adventurer, bigger-bottomed Cath?”

With the going there is a coming…

The thing arriving I might describe as more of a transparent presence.

There is a girl in here far beyond the tears shed from not making it to the bathroom in time.

She’s the one who is curious about how her shadow-side has informed her life. The woman who rises to clear her tears and change her pants and re-apply lipstick before re-entering the world a bit more humble and lighter for having laid down some of the pretense of being so together so much of the time.

I rise.


3 Responses to “Beyond Comfort”

  1. Alexandra Eldridge on February 25th, 2015

    Your spirit is indomitable! xx

  2. Irene on February 25th, 2015

    You rise…and you shine. Your bright spirit touches us all deeply.

  3. Rita Kindl Myers on February 25th, 2015

    I like that, especially the part about “shedding the pretense.” Having MS is strangely both a humbling as well as strengthening experience.

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