It's Hard.

       It’s hard.

      It’s really, really, hard. When your mind is saying, yes, yes, let's do it! and your soul is chiming in, this will make you happy; but your body simply replies with the same answer every time, like an old man on the bus who says the same words to the driver every day when he nods goodbye: I’m so very tired.

        I’m sorry, I can’t do it. 

        It hurts too much.

       All I want is to practice the piano, or sew, or take a full-length shower; and if I go ahead and do it anyway, afterward my body is in even more pain— a lot more.

       Then I have to take more medicine,

       and my mind gets even more dizzy, 

       and when my soul says, you can keep moving forward! I want to grab it by its hair and shout and sob and show it the dull, burning flashes of frosty lightning tracing every path my neurons connect to with a silent scream.

       Yet even when tears are streaming down my face and all I need more than air itself is a hug, but I can’t get one because everyone else is asleep— I still hear my soul, quietly flickering away in my shaky heart to keep it warm.

       You will.

   Your will is stronger than fatigue.
   Your hope will overcome depression.
   Your strength will carry your pain.
   Your determination will sharpen your mind.
   Your faith will shape your future, and
   Your soul will keep you warm.

       I hope you have a good day. I'm super sleepy so I'll be watching The Great British Bake-off and drinking plenty of fluids. 

        Love,

          Joelle.