So you can see my bra underneath my shirt
Watch the wind underneath my skirt
But that ain't the picture it's just a part
Everybody's got a story that can break your heart.
Watch the wind underneath my skirt
But that ain't the picture it's just a part
Everybody's got a story that can break your heart.
See my eyes, don't see what I see.
Touch my tongue, don't know what tastes good to me.
It's the human condition that keeps up apart,
Everybody's got a story that could break your heart.
Touch my tongue, don't know what tastes good to me.
It's the human condition that keeps up apart,
Everybody's got a story that could break your heart.
The invisibility of my illness - the constant comment "you look great" "you don't look sick" "I'd never be able to tell by looking at you" - really brings this home for me. You can't tell by looking at me how sick I really am. Not unless you really really know me, and are really really observant. If you can see the slight lilt of my head, or the stillness of my hands, or the tiny slump in my shoulders that aren't there when I'm feeling good, then - and only then - is it visible. Otherwise, you can't see it.
And I'm sure as heck not the only one
You can't know who's had a heart attack, or lives with an abuser, or is out of work, or is going through a divorce, or is struggling with a debilitating addiction. You can't see the scars of anxiety, or diabetes, or schizophrenia. There's no way to see lupus, or fibromyalgia, or a recent death in the family. So much of our personal suffering is invisible to the naked eye.
I have stories that could break your heart. So do you. So does everyone I know. It's intimidating to realize that even though our stories are all different, we've all suffered, all cried, all had our hearts broken. And it's inspiring to realize that, just by the fact of us being here - human adults - we can know that we have come through as survivors with stories, even where there may be scars. We are the tellers now. We can make the invisible known. We have not been broken by the heartbreak.
And I'm sure as heck not the only one
You can't know who's had a heart attack, or lives with an abuser, or is out of work, or is going through a divorce, or is struggling with a debilitating addiction. You can't see the scars of anxiety, or diabetes, or schizophrenia. There's no way to see lupus, or fibromyalgia, or a recent death in the family. So much of our personal suffering is invisible to the naked eye.
I have stories that could break your heart. So do you. So does everyone I know. It's intimidating to realize that even though our stories are all different, we've all suffered, all cried, all had our hearts broken. And it's inspiring to realize that, just by the fact of us being here - human adults - we can know that we have come through as survivors with stories, even where there may be scars. We are the tellers now. We can make the invisible known. We have not been broken by the heartbreak.
Heartbreak does not equal person break. It really doesn't have to. We are so much more than our hearts. So much more than our minds. So much more than any part of our bodies.
Have you ever stopped to wonder about all the stories?
Have you ever stopped to wonder about all the stories?
The universe is made up of stories, not atoms.
ReplyDelete~~~ Muriel Rukeyser ~~~