The Talking Head..

Many years ago, when my health was a beautiful thing, energy abound, optimistic in life, my future ahead of me, I sat at a pond on my dad’s property, late at night smoking a joint with a dear family member. We had a case of the giggles talking and laughing till we were out of breath. I remember distinctly hearing my family member joke that he was a talking head. That name stuck with me.

As illness took hold of his body, later in life, that night often floating through my mind and I wondered if these were prophetic words of what was to come. In the end, it was me. It was me that became ‘the talking head’ as ME/CFS and other illnesses ravished my body and left me on my back watching life pass me by as I was sucked into the abyss of chronic pain and fatigue. Weighted down by the forces of gravity like sand bags attached to each limb, limiting my ability to function…