Untitled by Hope

By Olivia Hope

 

I move but I am slow. The pep I once had in my step is now a shuffle. I hesitate to continue this

endless path of hopelessness. Where am I going? How did I get here? Why? I ask myself these

questions but they are left unanswered. I cannot stop to consider what these answers could be or

what they mean for me. All I can do is move forward.

Some days, I find my feet feel lighter. I can pick up the pace and wear a smile on my face. Other

days, I am on the ground crawling inch by inch. I long for what once was. When I ran with

freedom and skipped with joy, uninhibited by the weight of my sorrow and trauma. When did

this load become so heavy? Who is to blame? Why? I ask myself these questions but still they

are left to their own. All I can do is move forward.

As the mile markers go by, I pick up more weight and drop some off. The burdens fluctuate but

the pace remains the same. Even when my shoulders and hands are free, my body remains heavy.

My mind is chaotic white noise and I feel I am over capacity, incapable of finding myself. Who

am I outside of my obligations, family, and school? Where do I end and they begin? Why do I

feel I am never enough? This question stops me in my tracks.

I sound like the voices in my life who kept me small, sorrowful, and stiff. I do not like that. I

look at the road behind me, all the miles I have walked, crawled, ran. I remember each step and

how at each obstacle, each weight added, and each burden removed, I kept moving. I turn around

and stare at the road ahead of me, breathing in this moment of stillness. I want to shame myself

for standing still, but the sounds of the birds and the warmth of the breeze distracts me from

those thoughts. I should take breaks like this more often.

I take one final breath and I continue my pace once again. This time, I am walking taller and I

see a light in the distance that I did not see before. My body is still heavy and my mind is still

static, but the light provides me with strength. I see how much I have overcome and how much I

will accomplish in my future. I move forward feeling hopeful and more than enough

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Olivia “Liv” Hope

Olivia “Liv” Hope is a senior at Purdue University Fort Wayne majoring in Psychology, minoring in Philosophy and Religious Studies with a certificate in LGBT+ Studies. Olivia has received student awards for his involvement on campus and through his community advocacy in Fort Wayne, has been invited to sit on local advisory groups and be a guest speaker on panels. He is a single parent to a 3-year old child at home and enjoys being out in nature. Because of his lived experiences in the mental healthcare system and passions for advocacy, his career plans are to obtain his PhD in neuropsychology to advance alternative nonmedical treatments for psychiatric patients.

Image description: A selfie taken by Liv in his bedroom. He has black hair with a green streak and a black nose piercing. He is smiling while wearing a black shirt with a green crystal necklace.

Image description: A selfie taken by Liv in his bedroom. He has black hair with a green streak and a black nose piercing. He is smiling while wearing a black shirt with a green crystal necklace. 

Sadness vs Numbness

Give me sadness
With its grey skies
My heart ripped into two


Let me sob
Let listen to gut wrenching songs
Let me write dark and dreary poetry
Let me share my woes to all
About the unfairness and hurt
That my senses perceive whenever I breathe


Yes, give me this sadness, that has a clear cause
This sadness that I hate: Give me that: For my own sake


Sadness is natural; a part of human life
Barely on the spectrum
When I compare it to Numbness.


Grey skies vs blackness nothing
Heart in two vs non-feeling beats


An inorganic place called the Abyss
Where Numbness holds myself
Not song, word, or voice allowed
Not even the grace of sadness can present itself


Just me and Numbness
And empty thoughts of blankness
No one in; no one out
Unbearable Disconnection


The world’s simple notion of depression as sad sadness
Gives no justice to the Numbness of the Abyss
So, please, may I have sadness?

Jody has short black hair with her left side shaven. Her glasses are reddish, her sweather is dark purple, her earrings are black, and her grin is huge.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jody Michele Powers

Jody Powers is an independent consultant for the Indiana Coalition Against Domestic Violence, where she serves on the leadership. committee of Indiana Disability Justice and is the Hub Coordinator of the IDJ website. Jody is also a licensed Christian minister, whose faith motivates her to promote the human dignity of all people. Jody has cerebral palsy with visual and speech impairments. She uses a power chair for mobility. She deals with clinical depression and PTSD, unseen disabilities that affect her life as much as her seen disabilities.

Email:  jodymichele@outlook.com

(F)ableism

Unscrewed your lies from inside
my mind

Thwarted unworthiness
which dictated who I was

The runt of some impoverished litter
how dared I not survive?
Otherwise, what does it say about society
when we do not save the least of these?

My existence depends on your benevolence
you pay me in tax from the scraps
you render Caesar
I’m no believer.

Remove your black boot from my neck,
I don’t need your rations, fascist.
I won’t be stranded by your standards
of intelligence or
physique.

Ableism likes its women blade thin
starved till we’re dizzy bled out
and white like glutted milk
for children
it deems we dare not feed
until we fit.

Ableism lets me breathe
provided I am blank and grateful as
a grave made from milestones that pulverized my C-curved spine.
This able life is a lie
cleansed by the Savior who did not die.
I’m saved by His grace.
I don’t have to try, victory’s within me.

!

About the Author: Stacye Robinson

Stacye Robinson received a Master of Arts degree from Ball State University in 2013. She now lives in Indianapolis with her husband Ryne and Robinson.

Dark Night of the Soul

The words below are the written words of Stephanie Winn’s poe “Dark Night of the Soul”. The video has her spoken words.

*Please Note: IDJ does not align with any one religion, faith, or belief system. Instead, we offer a platform where people with disabilities can express their diverse experiences.

Dark Night of the Soul

1 decade. It’s been 1 decade since my body turned on me, taking freedom and sanity in 1 fell swoop. Initiating a loop of nausea, dizziness, and headaches that takes my life and makes it something I do not recognize. The cries that emit from my soul are ragged and raw. I crawl to the bathroom, room spinning around, the ground no longer something I can trust. And all I know is I must find answers and a cure, but 10 year in I am no longer sure that they exist.

 

I am told to resist the dark hole that comes in these moments. Emotions take me to my end. But I do not descend. I wait for the recovering, the days of relief that make the suffering fade and my eyes are again able to see the beauty that is my life. When I’ve been stuck in bed and am now able to rise, the lies of sickness become instantly clear. My fear of lost relationships slips under the sea of love and support my friends and family always show me. I know the guilt of missing out is pointless as these memories are eclipsed by the constancy of my love. And my love is deep. 

 

One of the gifts reaped from the pain is a gratefulness that seeps into my very being for all of the daily scenes. Like the sound of my daughter’s laughs, the warmth of a full bubble bath, my husband’s kiss on my lips, and the delicious salt of my favorite chips. These moments are not lost on me. 

 

But, I am greedy. I want only the good all the time. This needy body of mine makes me sick as I tick off another day spent in the grip of chronic illness. So, I turn to my Maker, my Father, Creator. 

 

The same hands that hold me, molded me. Did they make a mistake or are they unable to take this away? I pray and I beg. I negotiate. Offer up 1 fate in exchange for another. Let’s make a deal. If you heal me, I’ll serve you forever. Never ask for anything more. 

 

But, deep in my core I know, the answer may be no or not yet. And if so, can I let go and even rejoice as I listen for His still, soft voice?

 

Oh daughter, this was not my plan, not the work of my hands. I hear your cries and I touch your soul. The miracle just looks different than you thought. I have fought for you each and every day in the spiritual battle you do not see. The sea is not deep enough to hold my love for you. I cover you with my wing and sing over you with rejoicing. I see your pain and I do not turn away. I stay and I will fill your cup. I will hold you up until this world passes into the next and you rest in me. 

 

Until then, it is enough that He who calmed the sea, resides in me. Bringing peace in the storm and light in the darkest night of my soul.

About the Author:

Stephanie Winn attended Ball State University and graduated with a Master’s degree in Speech language pathology. She has worked as a speech therapist for the last 10 years in nursing homes, home care, and the school setting. She is currently on medical leave due to her struggle with vestibular migraines and hashimoto’s thyroiditis. She is actively involved in Urban Light Community Church in Muncie, Indiana. Stephanie is happily married to Seth and they have 2 daughters, Zayla (age 10) and Aria (age 8). Stephanie enjoys spending time with her friends and family, reading, and going for walks.

In this picture, Stephanie Winn has long brownish blonde hair, wearing a light blue, button-up, long sleeved shirt.