What they don’t know about the sickness

It lasts long after the heaving ends.

Long after the waves stop sweeping and crashing and sweeping and crashing and sweeping.

It leaves an imprint on your confidence. It leaves a bitter taste. It leaves a scar. It stays to remind you that it can come back at any time it likes. And it will. It leaves memories deeply etched on your bones; of feeling like your body is on fire and your mind is mush and all you want is someone to hold back your hair and you physically cannot keep this up for one second longer.

But you do.

what they don't know about the sickness~ ghostwritermummy.co.ukYou do, because there really is no other choice. And it shall pass. And you know that. You take a pill and you close your eyes and you find some relief, somewhere, somehow.

But what they don’t know about the sickness

You can’t do all the same things that you used to, before.

You can’t travel long distances, or go to places you think will be crowded, or hot, or busy, or strange. Or the loos will be hard to find and you won’t have spare clothes and you don’t know the people around you.

And although the bad days are firmly behind you there is always the fear that they will return. And any time your stomach rolls you panic because you think it’s starting again. And every time you remember, you taste it. You feel it. You live it.

What they don’t know about the sickness

It takes a long time to leave you. It stays. And it remembers.

And now I remember. The sickness five years ago, and the feelings of helplessness in that delivery room. With a mind that had been shredded through a sickly pregnancy and I want so much more this time. I want there to be a way through, this time.

And so what they don’t know about the sickness is this.

It won’t win. There will be bad days but they will be behind me, every day. And at the end of this I will be stronger, even without someone to hold back my hair.
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