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A Hole In The Sun

This is the week.

Two years ago, my life, shifted, altered, ruined in permanence.  

Dysautonomia.

A word I have adjusted to.  

A Disease so catastrophic to the body, one’s heart, soul, and mind become stuck, interrupted forever. There is no return.  A Disability is a loss. A beginning with no end.

Yet, I am supposed to accept it, continue to live as I deteriorate and now losing my House  (I have Ninety-Days to Relocate).  *My Landlord decided he wants to sell the Property  (which from the bottom of me, I know is a lie.  I have resided here for 6 years.  His ‘Non Renewable Lease’ decision is due to my Ex-Husband).

So, once again in Dysautonomia, I have to start over as if becoming  Disabled wasn’t enough.

I have to let another life pass away.

First, when I was eight. (Molestation. For A Year)

Second, when I was nineteen. (Suicide Survivor x3)

Third, when I was twenty-three (Total Abdominal Hysterectomy).

I thought I was finished with reincarnating in waking hours.

No.

Dysautonomia ended who I was. 

This concept of ‘Passing Way’ what once was, is something recent I’ve acquired.

My new Counselor educated me on the process of Grieving Dysautonomia  (which I have not).

This Week, I have to begin the process of my past, Pre-Dysautonomia.

Why?

What’s left, but a girl who is losing her house (after six years), can never return to Teaching College, Receive a M.F.A then Ph.D., Travel the World.

Nothing.


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