Growing Up

Growing Up,
I have forgotten the feel of the early morning sun,
The soft and cool warmth caressing my skin,
As I walk in the grass.

Growing up,
I replaced it with long naps,
Or sleeping-in,
Waking up, still fatigued, to my mother’s angry screams,
And missed medicines and meals.

I have forgotten the feel of late night talks,
Or watching the stars,
The silence that engulfs you,
The quiet comfort.

Growing up,
I replaced it with ages spent staring at my ceiling,
Tired and drowsy and feverishly ill,
Waiting for the medicines to kick in.

I have forgotten the taste of ice-cream,
And the sound of my laughter interrupted by hiccupping in pain,
Slowly I am losing the joy of walking,
And the ability to run.

Growing up,
I replaced long jogs with short walks and breaks in between,
Huffing and puffing like an asthmatic,
Unable to even water sip,
As pain cracks along my body like a lightning whip.

I have lost the ability for long hours to read,
And sometimes mid-step my legs still,
Numb and dead,
Or mid-sentence my brain stops,
Cognitive fog they call it.

Growing up,
I replaced the smiles with paingry,
I replaced debates with knowledge about the types of pain,
I replaced my favourite food with medicine,
And my hopes and dreams with the wish to function normally again.

I could write an ode on growing up with chronic pain,
And how it slowly sucks the life from you,
Leaving you physically and mentally ill,
Yet looking fit,
But this isn’t a tale of mourning invisible illness,
For we with it still live,
And perhaps that’s the biggest tragedy.

That we are alive,
Yet unable to truly live,
They say there is a light at the end of this tunnel,
And I wonder how long till I can crawl to it.