It’s after midnight. I remain heartbroken - by chronic pain, from witnessing the waves of inhumanity and indifference in our midst. I am barely keeping it together, but I have good mascara.

Observers have no idea what they are looking at, so unfortunately, movement disorders get judged on appearances. If I failed to communicate the brutality of this condition, or my relative handicaps, it’s not anyone else’s fault. I’m still learning too. 

It’s tough to find the words to convey how viciously symptoms and side effects consume most of my resources. In the middle of most days, I fantasize... 
about sleep. 

This disease is sneaky, with unexpected ferocity, it delivers relentless blows. Anyone who wished me harm, can call it even. 

Thank you to all who share and read, and take the time. I’m not able to follow normal protocol, because Parkies don’t have the luxury of normalcy. 

Please know I’m not interested in sympathy, nor is this an SOS. 

I’m no damsel in distress, and I ask that you hear I have no interest in sympathy, though I’ve ever been so frail. 

No one can “save” anyone, this is Parkinson’s. I am hunted most of the time, and cherish hours of relief. Oh friends, Parkinson’s is rough, but your presence helps more than you know! 

https://open.spotify.com/track/2Bcu8cmU7qYu3qXLowHQie…