A bit trepid…

Since my leg spasmed, I have felt a slight trepidation about my future. It’s not fear, more of a vulnerability.

My doctor has precribed more of the medicine that controls my neurological disease, so I feel much more in charge of my life.

Since I wrote about my auditory hallicinations I haven’t had any. Isn’t that strange?

Two neighbours walked by as I was looking out of an upstairs window. I didn’t recognise them at first as they were all togged up for the weather. Then I recognised their dogs. They didn’t even wave. We have socialised. Some people are very strange.

Someone has dumped a bed frame outside my gates. We call it fly tipping and it’s a crime. I have reported it but have no idea who did it. It’s hard to get assistance with such things during lockdown but leavingit where it where they did is appalling.

I have become a governor for the ambulance service in my area. I feel very privileged. I admire paramedics tremendously. I won’t get paid or anything.

I went out yesterday. It was crisply cold and a bit of sun showing. There are snow drops out which boosts my looking forward to spring. The daylight lengthens.

I’m so grateful for everything in the last paragraph. I feel joy in seeing snowdrops and feeling the crisp cold.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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