Good evening.  I am going to post this; and then your next MYWOC from me will be Sunday.  I have a very challenging day tomorrow; and on Saturday, I post my musings.  If you want to read them, go to themissourimugwump.blogspot.com.

So:  for those who wonder.  I cannot speak for other disabled persons, but I have never conquered the drag downward that any situation which challenges my disability brings. I well know that thousands face greater restrictions than I, but nonetheless at times, mine overwhelm me.  When I encounter an obstacle, every ounce of me yearns to crumble.  Sometimes I conquer it; sometimes i do not.

This witch’s monkey wraps itself around my back and screams into my ear.  You are worthless, you are garbage, you are ugly, you are awkward.  You deserve nothing.

I wrote this years ago, and I offer it as a glimpse into my world, for those who wonder.

DISCOVERY

My soul is in my spinal cord.
I know it’s there.
When I walk across the street
people stare.
Men watch my stride
and not my face
and then decide
if I’ve a place
in heart or home.
It’s not a shame, a lie, or ruse;
it’s true.
My soul is in my spinal cord.
My tears
gather like crystal drops.
My fears
cluster in my heart.
My soul is in my spinal cord.
It’s like my back
a bit off track
a little wobbly
and always aching.

c. 17 December 1978  M. Corinne Corley

It’s late on the evening of the eleventh day of the thirty-second month of My [Never-Ending] Year Without Complaining.  Today’s score:  Life, 1 —  CC, 0.  Call the angels.