everyone is in bed except me.
as I'm typing this, I look down at my left arm,
and I see eight new marks on it.

these marks will be scars
that I will always have.
they show me the reality
that my body is not okay.

this surgery will hopefully
have fixed this pain.
but there are so many other parts of me,
inside most of my body,
that hurt.

so much of the time.

sometimes I wonder,
is this what the rest of my life will be like?
will I always be this limited?
and i just don't know.

when I talk with others about it,
the few I really open up to about it,
I tell them I must do all the things to help,
so I can know I'm doing everything possible.

but really, sometimes I just want to stop.
it hurts.  bad.
I don't have the energy, the will,
to do the exercises, the research,
the more.

and so, sometimes I sit and stare.
sometimes I sit and cry.
and sometimes I think of
all the ways I wish I could move my body
but can't and probably never will again.

and then I feel worse.

because I don't feel like me anymore.

a word

some people think of a word for the new year.
sometimes i do it, and sometimes i don't.
usually i don't.

i don't like to feel pressure to work on something
that i know i will probably forget about
in the busyness of life.
and then that is one more thing
to feel overwhelmed by.

this last year has been hard in some very
real and life changing ways.
ways probably not evident to most people.

and the other day, a word popped into my head.

acceptance.

this year, i'm not going to work
on accepting these changes.
they are happening, and i can't predict
what they will fully look like this year,
or next year even.

but.

i think they are here to stay.
and even though that makes me
want to cry, i just gotta...

keep going...

somehow...