Two Steps Forward

Another day in passing

Two steps forward,

then the ripcord that is pain drops us both to our knees.



I think it’s the unexpectedness that causes the most stress to the nervous system.

A situation of thinking things might be getting better.  Gentler.  Softer.

Then the hit comes like a weighted slap to the sternum.

It’s the absence of a tempo.  There are some patterns, but it’s the “good times” shattering over and over that creates this ongoing unease.



Erase the warmth and smiling - we’re in the ever-present panic room again, trying to sooth our inner exhaustion.



Pain is a dark force that is rocking Tabitha’s system, and my own alongside it.

It’s like a dark entity that’s lodged itself deep inside her sacrum, who is inhaling her life force through a rift in her spine.  A child whose constant screaming only she can hear, and I am witness to my love convulsing and sobbing.

It’s hard to get anything done during these times.

As always, the clouds do part.  It can be thirty minutes, or three hours, when the seizing and the burning eases up enough for her to come back to steadiness.  

The drugs or the weed kicks in.  Her mind withstands the passing onrush of psychic pain that is trying to upheave her higher Self.

No, the pain never goes away, but it lowers [at most] to a 6 or 7 on the pain scale.  

It’s been long enough that that is where Tabitha calls home.

And the tether slackens.  

The ripcord plays docile.  On the edge of manageable.

It has never been removed.

A timid breath is taken, uncertain if this is a trick being played on us - or if we’re free to move about.

Another day in passing.