I wrote this poem for my blog, Parkinson's Journey (parkinsonsjourney.com) and thought I'd share it here... Enjoy.
I used to be happy
I used to be a lot of fun...
so I've been told.
What happened to me?
The me that used to not have to take pills to feel good?
The me that used to laugh and dance and sing?
The me, even I liked?
Even my kids say they want their 'old mom' back.
(By the way - so do I.)
How can I give them what was lost?
Get back what was taken away?
(Involuntarily, I might add.)
I try to stay 'up',
stay positive
but it's positively hard to do
when this thing -
this monster -
this thing called Parkinson's disease
insists on having it's way
and every time you start feeling like
the 'old you',
the 'new you' butts in.
Sometimes I don't have a choice in this.
Sometimes I don't get to choose
the up days
from the down days
and the in-between days
from the lost days.
And sometimes
the bad days really are as bad as they seem
and the good days are really better than it looks.
It's a game this little monster plays -
deceiving you
deceiving me.
But I'm going to try
and try real hard
to hold on
to the old me.
And I mean that figuratively,
despite the color of my hair,
of which I earned each
and every gray strand
being a mom
when I was the old me
without Parkinson's disease
and the rest
from having Parkinson's disease.
I'm going to try
to be up
when I'm down
and not cry
when I feel like sobbing uncontrollably
over things lost
and if I find it hard
to find the old me
while living the new me
please don't give up on whoever I am -
because the old me
really is alive inside -
struggling to be freed.