A love poem for the chronically ill and perpetually exhausted
Those who go out weeping, carrying seeds to sow,
Will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
~Psalm 126
I am always amazed
at your ability to find joy in between sorrows
to go out weeping, carrying seeds to sow
and lie down again, because the weight is just too much
and then rise, and then rise, and then rise
again and again
as many times
as you fall.
But the most amazing thing
is how beautiful you are
and how brave you are
when you rest.
I’ve been reading about studies that show talking to yourself in the second person (you) can help motivate you, because it creates “psychological distance” from the situation. I talk to myself a lot, and I’ve found this, instinctively, to be true. If I am just myself in an overwhelming or upsetting situation, I feel lost, alone, confused, and without resources. If I speak to myself as a mother to a child, I become a responsible adult who knows what to do, *and* a cared-for child receiving the guidance she needs.
I think this is one of the reasons I write a lot of my poetry in the second person. I am writing to you, true, but I don’t know many of you personally. But I do know myself, my struggles, and my needs. I can speak the words of blessing, of awe, of amazement, of understanding, of encouragement, to myself, to Jessica, and then turn them outward to another “you.” I can see myself, and say, “I see you,” and in doing so, create a vision that enables others to feel seen as well.
Just some meta thoughts for you today. :) I’m curious—do you talk to yourself? What tense do you use? I? We? You? She/he/they? What if you wrote yourself, or your inner child, a poem? What words would make adult-you feel calm and competent, and child-you feel safe and loved?
Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it.