You think you’re better

And wonder if you’ve ever been ill

You gaslight yourself and if you don’t others will

They ping-ball your fatigue

Telling you they too are tired.

You feel guilty because you know that’s true.

And you know others have felt like this for years

And you ping-balled them then.

Still do. Probably

You think you’re better

And you go for a walk,

round the next corner

Up the next hill

You grow giddy at the liberation

And then just get grow giddy.

Nausea sweeps in like a tide

You’re breathing but the oxygen is not making it all round –

Your head feels like it’s not outside in the air

It’s stuck back in the cupboard at home.

A twig snaps under your foot

In Sydenham Woods

And suddenly your brain is in a wilderness

It can’t remember what to do to keep you upright

A surging panic about losing your place

In the book of walking …

You stop, breathe, correct

Sway back the other way

Move on

No damage done

Just another invisible tear in your confidence

Invisible mending that takes nearly a week this time

More or less than last time? – you can’t remember

But who knew the first woodland walk since this all started

Would carry such risk?

Balance is a thing you’re good at

Balance and off-kilter a feeling you usually enjoy

Knowing you can weeble back

A lifelong free toy that isn’t now automatic

You’re glad that you’re not out with a group

You ponder a tree trunk and wonder how long until you could dance on a log?

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