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.
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.

!

The word snap with an exclamation point inside a cloud burst

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Disabled and Proud

When I roll through a door With my son in my lap,

I don’t deserve your praise, so please don’t clap.

The looks of pity and horror Hurt too, you see

Because be it your praise or fear Be it a cheer or a leer,

One thing is always clear,

You’re singling me out for my disability, And living life is no inspiration.

Do my words give you clarity? Clarity not needed by my son.

 

I live life from a wheelchair That gives full independence. I know you see it or hear it,

And of my chair you’re fully aware So can you just give full acceptance

To me in my chair?

Because I promise my son can see and feel The fear behind your stare.

 

I’m not so different from you.

I get happy.

I get frustrated.

I get sappy.

I get infantilized.

I get mad.

I feel all the feels Tell me how living on wheels Makes me different from you?

Being a momma on wheels Is nothing strange,

And I promise my son doesn’t wish me to change.

 

 

For 29 months I nursed my son On wheels.

I chase my son On wheels.

I discipline my son On wheels.

I cook for my husband and son On wheels.

I change my son On wheels.

I say prayers for and with my son On wheels.

 

 

You see the wheels I live on aren’t all-defining Suffocating or confining.

They are a disabled mom’s All access pass

To her toddler’s world,

A world full of peace and calm

And also a world full of giggles and sass.

 

 

My name is Megan. I am disabled, I am Lebanese,

I have Cerebral Palsy, I am legally blind,

I am from the U.S.A., I am a wife,

I am a mother, I am a writer,

And of ALL that makes me ME

I am PROUD!

About this poem: I wrote this poem after my husband and I had to have our first conversation with our two-year-old son about ableism. He asked, “Why people so mean ‘cause momma sit? Momma tell them mean.” After our family conversation, I wrote this in response to my son’s question. I hope this little poem helps people to realize that societal ableism is still taught and fostered today. Many people may be unaware that they are fostering ableism, but the hard, sad truth is that they are. My husband was internally ableist for a long period of time not because ableist thoughts were purposefully passed down and placed on his shoulders, but because family unknowingly continue ableism’s terrible legacy.

Meghan Deahl with her husband and son
This is a picture of Megan Deahl, her husband, and son.

Abput the Author:

Hi! My name is Megan Deahl! I am a wife, momma, writer, disability advocate, animal lover, and avid crafter. Do you have questions about ableism? Please feel free to email me at deahldisabilityactivism@gmail.com. We can only eradicate ableism through education.