So How Are You Today?
Sometimes as greeting.
Yet a question.
Mask I wear, it answers: “I’m good”.
Alternatively: "About the same”.
When I remove the mask, swirling mix. Positive spins–-God’s Angels are around us, His Saints. Most of all Our Savior, Our Blessed Mother. All true. And true this overwhelm, this will this pain ever stop, this nervous system miswired, jolted. Rerouted, confused. Never know when the monsters will roar in there, pull up carpet, can’t make plans. Open target–-CRASH, BOOM. Ground hits hardest when folks don’t see it's happening. When don’t see the monsters are here.
And if I’m being honest, I need help. Your help. Caregivers, doctors, priests, neighbors, friends, family. I need you to see how things are for me, look the monster in the eye. Not sympathy so much as empathy, and your solid true (to feel, to do) “take my hand--and we’ll get through this”.
“Tell me about your despair and I will tell you mine”, says Mary Oliver.
“Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air”, she continues.
As I continue to hold both these things. And wrestle
how to say this,
how to answer
how I am today.
[Added later as part of a journal submission's guidelines:
Author's Note
It still happens, that queasiness in the stomach when I’m asked how I'm doing today. First the sensing, does this person actually want to know? Do they care? Then the sifting, do I share the hurt in hopes of some comprehension? Do I share the light in hopes of its expansion? So common it can be to minimize another’s pain or need, not wanting to see it, especially if it’s complicated. If it’s not an easy fix. And mine isn't. For one, I have Complex Regional Pain Syndrome [CRPS] a rare physiological and neurological disorder making pain signals both amplified and ongoing. It’s nicknamed the “suicide disease”, considered the most painful condition one can have. Terrifying then, to be alone, unseen. And one’s in danger if restrictions and accommodation needs aren’t grasped. Yet what is focused on grows, carves a path, a tendency of glance. And what I long to grow is the light. The warmth of that deep nestled spark, “Lifeforce Love” a friend calls it. Mine…and yours.
Questions for Group Reflection
1. One thing that bridges the gap between expressing the pain and embracing the light is the simple awareness of one’s body and experience. Are there related practices you might incorporate into your daily routine? There are things like mental tracing, scanning your body upon awakening, an act of gratitude really, a prayer. There’s a nudge to mindfulness as go about day, short pauses, just looking round, settling in, breathing space. There’s infinite ways the Spirit may be whispering. What are you hearing just now?
2. A way we can honor the complexity of our disabilities, while also honoring another’s need for simplicity, is to present concrete accommodations. This takes some ground work, prioritizing what is most important to you and brainstorming the most doable ways to meet this need. Not always easy! But is there a short list you might compile of specific accommodations? For example if one is heat sensitive asking to be seated near the air conditioner—something in this vein makes such a difference to well being yet is fairly simple when it comes down to it. ]
1 Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”, in The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1986.
2 For more on CRPS, see ComplexTruths.org, in particular “What is CRPS“ at https://complextruths.org/what-is-crps/, and “McGill Pain Index Measures CRPS Pain” at https://complextruths.org/mcgill-pain-index-where-is-crps-ranked-and-why/. ]
From combined prompts: Freewrite, giving honesty the focus and giving yourself permission to “write bad poetry”, about your mask, using above entry points (The mask I wear, When I remove the mask, And if I’m being honest); from Matthew Cuban Hernandez’s Free Verse: Removing the Mask (Hope At Hand’s Jax Poetry Fest 2023). Also using prompt of Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese”, from Reverend Dr. Victoria Marie’s Art As Spiritual Practice group, April 26, 2023.
