Today has been a better day 

 

I wasn’t a mardy bitch 

I didn’t cry when something went wrong 

I ate food without nausea or gagging or that awful washing machine feeling in my tummy 

 

Today was an easier day 

 

I could talk without the lump in my throat strangling me 

I walked through university enjoying each rain drop falling onto my cheeks

or dripping through my eyelashes 

 

Today was a good day 

 

I am grateful for the solitude 

My body felt like it was mine again for a while 

My mind felt like it regained some of the control I had surrendered to my illness 

 

Because I am ill 

And unstable 

And unwell

 

I didn’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed and decide to be hard work 

Didn’t get to make the decision of which days I could sleep 23 hours and lose 6 kilos of weight 

Didn’t get to choose whether or not my body was tired

I am tired 

 

I know the worry hours will come

The space between 3 and 5 am where sleep eludes me and the nightmares begin again 

Crawling through the spaces in my open window

Leaving me shaking and praying that it will be over soon

In the worry hours

That is all I can do

 

And somewhere after that time 

I pass out peacefully

My exhausted body setting up barriers to keep the dreams away 

So I can somewhat rest 

 

But after all that

Tomorrow will be a good day 

After all,

I am not my illness’s bitch.