When you are greeted,
With a shell of an
Old wrinkly man,
Do not forget the person i am,
Please try to understand,
That i am not the deep curves within my skin,
Please try to look within.
Do not forget though my speech may be
Inconsistent and slow,
And i may have difficulty with
The ability to chew and swallow.
Do not forget, that these complications,
Do not show,
The things i have achieved,
The family i conceived,
The fresh air that I've breathed,
In many different destinations,
And when you get cross with my hesitations,
Because my actions due to my complications,
May be a little all over the place,
Do not forget,
That embedded within my face,
Lies a whirlwind of memories and dreams,
And though at sometimes it seems,
That i am frail and bitter,
Please understand i am trying to come to terms
With the fact that Im no longer as fitter,
As i used to be.

And when you see me cry,
Do not try to deny me
Of my dignity,
Be calm, be patient,
And look after me gracefully,
Sympathise for the person,
I used to be.
And when you take my body,
Dress it with care,
There is still life there.

And if i stand and stare quietly,
Please wait, for me.
And when you brush my hair,
Please do not rush,
And if i speak in riddles,
Please do not hush,
What may not appear to make sense,
This change Im going through is
So very intense.

And if i soil myself
And your left to clean up the pieces,
Please try to do so,
In a way that irons out the creases,
Of shame and self blame,
And if i forget my name,
Please understand the pain,
That i will never be again,
The same,
Its just my body and my brain,
Don't quite work the way they used to,
And if it appears that Im asking you,
The same question repeatedly,
Please be patient,
I am doing the best for me.

When you look at my pictures,
My photos, my life,
You will see a successful man,
With three kids and a wife.
Young girl, I've battled inner strife,
For almost 90 years,
But nothing warrants tears more,
Than becoming a widow,
Not recognising your own shadow,
Realising your body is no longer your own,
Being moved into a care home,
Where the phone doesn't ring,
Where the birds no longer sing,
And you feel like giving in,
Every single day.
And people constantly say,
How you're turning old and frail,
That your body is aging and turning pale,
And every task you do,
You feel like you fail.

And if in time you begin to find,
A snippet of the old me,
Hold it carefully,
In the palms of your hands,
For the sands of time,
Are slipping too quickly,
Through mine.

So when you are greeted with a face,
With wrinkles so deep,
You could bury your own fears is them,
That sometimes weeps,
Remember, i was once
Like you,
And one day, you will be like me too.
Handle me with patience,
Tenderness, love and empathy,
Handle me gently.

And young lady,
I ask you,
Please be kind,
And remember all i have said,
As i unravel and unwind,
These cognitions within my head.

She went to bed scared last night, instead of spending hours hiding, she went to bed scared last night. She surrounded herself with pillows and blankets but it did not help. She woke up from nightmares huddled in the very top corner of the bed, shaking and scared, hugging her knees tight to her chest. She remembers the nightmares but she will not talk about them. She is too scared so she will not talk now. Everything has been too scary, overwhelming and now she will not talk to anybody. She will not and she is not allowed. But she is too scared to sleep tonight. She will hide instead, alone, huddled in a blue blanket, shaking and scared.

I sense that this compulsion to validate feelings will soon result in some ****** collision.

My fists are tightening and I begin dig my nails into the soft flesh of my palms. I feel desperate for instruction tonight and my brain is sending signals to my fingers to form the words to send to DT for help. SOS! Danger! But it will not be allowed. I am frightened and afraid I will hurt myself, I want to reach out but I do not know how. So there is no reason to reach out, express my fear of SI tonight. I am not angry. I feel only fear and despair of being uneducated in the ability to handle the screaming and anguish from the parts inside of me. But there is no choice but to do this alone. At this point in the evening, I am unable to say what the signed treaty will be in the end. I do know the deadly arsenal to be used in this fight, this internal war, tonight.

I have no reason to stay here and endure the endless pain that exists each night. DT says, “Nita, stay in your body.” Um, why? That’s the LAST place I want to be! That’s where the HELL is, does not he get that? Geez – this “body” is possessed, and since he would not agree to an exorcism – I am moving out each night when the ghosts from the past come calling. And if the place does not burn down or bleed out, I will return in the daylight.

I would much like to find the “Nita of old” ~ but the tide has swept her out to sea, leaving me, the new Nita, covered in seaweed. The fundamental stress is still here but now an ache edges into the limits of my consciousness. I do not feel armed to face the girl I am supposed to meet and accept.

I feel past my prime. My subconscious pulls at my arms, whispers in my ear memories…bits and pieces of that young girl who was also named Nita. I try to look away but I see her and I hear her. She tells me that she is too sick to be healed. She is emaciated, listless, naked and cold. Her eyes are glassy, she is bleeding and she speaks of vanishing. You cannot save her and I do not want too.

This is what I am reduced to each night. Screaming, fighting girls inside of me who are all vying for control. I do not care which one wins, I am not sticking around tonight to find out.

Sometimes I am scared of how much I do not want to be here.