Disclaimer: This is not an original idea of mine; I’ve seen various forms of this in the cyberverse. After a rough week, I felt the need to ask my body/mind why they were causing me so much grief. A letter seemed the most appropriate format.

Dear Mind & Body:

What is it you are trying to tell me? I lie, stone still, and listen. Hear heart beat; feel pain; feel the weight of you like lead against the duvet.

If I close my eyes, I can see the neck throb spasms; visualize the blood circulating (or not) from top of head to tip of toe. Feel where the numbness gives way to the jagged edges of pain. Count the seconds between the stomach cramps or stabbing gurgles.

The deep aches in my legs seem to laugh at the four lidocaine patches (one on thigh and shin of each leg). Face feels like sinus infection, abscessed teeth, black eye on the left side. The pain cascade from neck to cheek bone to jaw to teeth, once begun, seems immune to breakthrough meds.

Are you punishing me for neglecting you in the past? When I could walk for hours; party to dawn. When my mind still could hold information; when it didn’t hurt to talk. When the dragon in my belly hibernated; occasionally shifting her position in her sleep; shaking scales and tail; flexing wings while dreaming of flying.

Do my legs ache because I walked too much or not enough yesterday? Even after sleeping for 10 hours on Saturday, the fatigue still sits on my shoulders. So, how much sleep do you really need since you insist on usually waking me up every 2 hours or so?

What do you want me to feed you? Why do you crave sugar like an addict; why do you let me lose control over how much and what I eat? What you liked yesterday, you give me grief over today. Or was it what I ate 3 days ago?

What do you expect of me? What messages are you sending in zapping pains, soul-deep aches. When I try to stretch you gently, move you carefully, you retaliate with increased neck spasms, facial pain, and migraines.

Why do you opt for a chemical imbalance that makes depression is my shadow? Why have you chosen to have a good memory for bad things and a bad memory for good things? I walk into a room, unsure why I am there. Things go missing like large chunks of my cognitive abilities.

The act of sitting here writing you a letter has started a new pain cascade. The tingling numbness will explode. Back in bed; in the fetal position; I will slow down my breath, and try and decode the messages you keep sending. Is it morse code – the dots and dashes of my pounding heart; binary language of 1s and 0s combined in pain; a mythical language from our ancient past following the neuropathways? Where do I get my “secret decoder ring?” When will you speak to me in words; sentences; paragraphs that I can understand?

Image by JKönig via Flickr

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Now, it’s your turn. Compose: a letter, an email, a series of tweets; a poem; draw pictures, or shoot a vlog. Address your project to your mind and body: your “project” can be nurturing, encouraging, positive, funny or chastising, angry, unhappy. Whatever dialogue develops between the writing/creating you and the chronic you. And, of course, if you like, you can include your body’s and mind’s response. I’m still waiting for a reply from mine!

There will be fun {sur}prises for those folks who participate. (No askinng for hints, or shaking the package.) You can post a link to your blog if you chose to go public in the comments section here, or email me with the link, or with your communiqué to yourself. My email is: phylorsblog@ymail.com I look forward to reading your seeing/reading your projects.

Update: I should have been more clear — you can put your comminique in the comments section. And, as was suggested, I’ll set a due date for April 1st (no fooling), but I’m pretty flexible about that. Enjoy.