when the going gets tough

I've been an "I could" kind of girl for as long as I can remember.

It started off when I was younger. My dreams were big, as they should've been. I could be popular. I could be beautiful. I could grow up and be famous. I could be this, I could be that. I wore out the phrase like an old sweater. It's always been familiar to me, and it flows off my tongue like the melody of a song.

And just like every child does, I grew up and my dreams became a little more realistic. My "I coulds" became obtainable, and I dreamed of achieving them.

I dreamed that someday, I could change the world. I could change people's lives. I could make a difference. 

But the days grew longer and my bones began to ache. At seventeen, I was worn out by noon and my fatigue overtook who I was. I was in pain constantly. I was so sick.

And the "I coulds" changed again.

It became: I could have fibromyalgia. I could have arthritis. I could have an undefined connective tissue disease. I could have lupus. 

And then, for the first time in my life, an "I could" became an "I do".

On Tuesday, January 26, I was diagnosed with lupus.

Lupus. A disease where the body's immune system attacks itself. A disease where the body attacks itself. This attack results in joint pain, a facial rash, memory trouble/loss, and exhaustion - along with many, many other complications.

And now, the "I coulds" sing a different tune than ever before.

I could lose my hair. I could lose my memory. I could have kidney problems. I could have heart complications. I could have trouble breathing. I could end up in the hospital. I could end up not being able to go to school. I could have to give up on my dreams.

And it sucks. It is the worst feeling in the world to be a ticking time bomb at the age of seventeen. I am at a loss.

I spend so much time crying and grieving about this stupid diagnosis because the biggest I could in my life involves the fact that I could die. 

Not every teenage girl has to go about her everyday life with the constant fear that the dormant disease inside her will take a drastic turn, not everyone has to live in fear of the silent disease that calls them home.

It hasn't fully hit me that I am living now with a rare, autoimmune illness that only five million people in the world have. It hasn't fully hit me that I may have to kiss some of my dreams for my future good-bye. It hasn't fully hit me that I am never going to be the same, and that my life is going to be different than I imagined it.

But what has hit me, is that I need to be brave. I need to live every moment with a joyous and thankful heart. I need to praise God for every moment where I feel completely normal. I need to rejoice in the moments where I am not feeling any pain.

And when I do feel pain? I need to pray. I need to push. I need to preserve.

Because I am lucky, in all the moments when I am not lucky, I still am. It could always be worse, and I am still so blessed to be where and who I am.

I'm writing this today because I want everyone to know that it's okay not to be okay. It's okay to be weak and to not feel like you can push through any longer.

But it's not okay to give up.

In everything that you do, you need to do your best to prevail. You need to do your best to push yourself to succeed and to be the very best that you can, always. Every day of your life, you need to let yourself be afraid. You need to let yourself be scared of what could be. Do crazy things. Do wild, adventurous things that scare you.

Just let yourself live.

At the age of seventeen years old, I have become a ticking time bomb.

I have Celiac Disease.
I have Fibromyalgia.
I have Arthritis.
I have Depression and Anxiety.
And now,
I have Lupus.

And right now, I am so scared.

But that is not going to stop me from turning every "I could" into "I am" and "I did".

Much love,

Jess

Strangers: A Poem

Strangers

When is a stranger

No longer considered a stranger?

From brief locked eyes

to urgent surprises

when our shoulders met

It’s difficult to place

when our relationship is replaced

with the title of acquaintance

For you and I

shared locked eyes

and your pupils dilated in size

battling with recognition

For if you were a stranger

you’re a thief to me

Because I no longer have that moment

when our eyes did meet

So because I gave you my time

And I made yours, mine

I think I consider you

a welcome acquaintance

Because truly,

I would never

give a stranger

the smile

I gave to you

jmp

Envy is Green: A Poem

Envy is Green

 

I turn the knob to the left,
So that the water on my skin
Burns like the words within
"To the right"
My mind begs
Crying with all its might
Down to shaking legs
To alleviate the physical pain
That embodies that in my brain
From the words
I deserve
Nothing
Envy takes the form of
screenshots
texts
photos
Simply because one cannot get enough
of what they believe they are entitled to
For this is not about you,
But instead us
As a whole
And the happiness that comes from those
Who choose to bestow
Kindness & love
Instead of
Ridicule and Teasing
I'm sorry that we don't need you,
But maybe I'm not,
Because without you, I feel made new,
and with you, I'm caught
Stuck
In between hating myself and
hating you
Everything was blue, always
But now it is yellow
And the skies are clear,

It's a better kind of blue
And your envy is a storm cloud trying to intrude
But today the wind is high,
And you are not going to succeed
My sails are open
And I'm in the lead

 

jmp

 

 

But a Statistic: A Slam Poem

But a Statistic: A Slam Poem

Test scores, 

Best scores, 

Always gotta have the right answers.

They don't know me,

They don't care who I am;

The life I've lived or the places I've been. 

To them, I'm merely a statistic, 

Sadistic

To fit a quota placed upon them.

ACT scores recently suggest: 

We did not do our best!

1 in 4 students not ready to attend college, 

Because they "lack" the knowledge. 

I'm not gonna lie;

I've been one from 

Time to time 

Who's laughed at those I've believed are wasting their time...

They apply to reach schools equivalent to my plan D, 

Listened to them claim they'd attend school with me

And who'd I be,

If I said, I didn't make fun of them

Because academically, they're beneath me.

But isn't that just one part of what's wrong with society? 

Students display different talents, interests, and intelligence...

So why are we all judged by our intellect? 

Students can't get into their dream college 

Unless their advantage includes celebrity sport talent or a superior mind, 

Because of that I'm incredulous.

Students across the country give up on their dreams

And fall beneath, 

Just because they weren't good enough 

Some don't care, that's fair,

But some who try - they just can't bear 

The workload, the hold, the prison that 

Homework and lectures and textbooks unfold. 

Again, I'm on the other side of the spectrum 

Effortless A's and a scoff when kids fail,

But who am I to judge? 

Why did I allow myself to believe I had the right 

To judge someone because their best and mine 

Weren't in the same neighborhood 

But I see it now, as college approaches, the defeat when kids learn...

That their dreams are shattered because they didn't 

give enough

do enough

spend enough time studying by themselves

to understand what they should have already academically earned.

13 years spent sitting in desks

Taking standardized tests 

And begging to be outside 

Under bright sunny skies

Instead of feeling trapped inside 

four white walls.

A standardized time to make sure 

Kids are allowed to let their intelligence take hold.

But when children are not allowed to be children, 

And teenagers learn like zombies,

It's scary to wonder where this will lead,

And well, isn't the ultimate goal for us to succeed?

Changing tests to make them easier, 

Changing names of standardized tests to dissuade the negativity that surrounds it, 

But if you haven't been listening, do it now

You will never fool me.

Teachers so scared of failing, 

So scared of statistics that illustrate that even they aren't enough,

Drive to cheating,

Get a figurative beating from the moral system 

Funny, isn't it? 

How locals who do a more immediate form of cheating 

Get in trouble long before any public official 
Ever would. 

You say you're making tests easier 

For me and him and her and them

But really,

Who is the true winner in this fight to achieve?

Easier test scores, better statistics..

Wow, coincidence isn't it? 

Look,

I'm only seventeen and I care about our future.

The future of those long after me, even my children, additionally. 

Right now, things just aren't right. 

And eventually, they need to be. 

All this to plead 

And to ask for a truce

When you quit pretending to care about children in the public education system and ACTUALLY do,

Then maybe, when we aren't just numbers or facts, we'll continue to do our best - each and everyday with fine instructors who go above and beyond to make the cage of white walls seem open to at least our minds and creativity 

I no longer wish to be a statistic, a fact, or a percentage 

Part of an acceptance or rejection notice,

I just really want to be me.

And in the public school system, 

That's the hardest thing to be.

What an unfortunate moment,

This moment,

When we all realized what it means

to be 

Mediocre.

Because even I, number 29 in my class of 370 with a 4.1 GPA, am considered mediocre.

Take that into consideration.

The Shallow End: A Poem

The Shallow End

Frustration

What's the causation? 

Help me. 

I-I need to breathe. 

Begging for validation,

I am...

   I am.

A short breath out when 

I need attention. 

My breath is caught;

My heart is racing.

I am lost in a world so full

  of lies & expectations.

What do we need to do?

Please help me,

help me

out of this hole reality 

has dug

through these standards.

I just can't be

me.

Stress rhymes with mess -

Which summarizes

who I've been 

for the past 17 years. 

Make no mistake,

I'm not perfect.

But instead, I'm never worth it.

I mean, thats just how I feel inside of

my mind.  

Short of breath, 

hair's a mess.

Constantly filling myself with lies; 

time after time. 

Reminding everyone around me, 

reminding those who feel I'm the one to despise. 

Help me

find out who I truly am,

instead of the girl 

with a mask 

forced to pretend; 

and please her fellow man.

& her peers,

who just don't understand her fears,

these trials 

that she endures. 

Out of breath. 

Frustration

Misery

Stress

and Depression

always find me quicker than

love could --

or just so it seems 

That's a shame, 

but not your loss..

At least you are happy.

Low self esteem, 

no confidence - ever for show.

A ghost of one

 who could've

who would've

who should've

but just didn't.

Happiness is trivial, 

it's not guaranteed. 

Save yourself now -- live for you today,

because even the most selfless

find themselves 

begging 

for recognition. 

jmp.

Dear 911: Please // A Poem On Hurricane Katrina

Dear 911: Please

“Please help.”

My voice is strong; my heart is beating.

My wife is alive and blood pulses through her veins.

The water is low – we don’t panic.

And I can still breathe.

“Please send help.”

My voice is loud; my heart still beating.

My wife is calm; blood courses quietly through her veins.

The water fills the first floor; we cringe when we hear the dogs whining.

But I can still breathe.

“I’m begging, please send help.”

My voice is cracking; my heart – beating.

My wife is sweating; her pulse – quickening.

The water fills the second floor and we hold hands tightly.

But I can still breathe.

“Please, we need help.”

My voice is desperate – my heart is pounding.

My wife is coughing – her pulse is fading.

The water touches my waist; we pray to God almighty.

But I can still breathe.

“Please I need help.”

My voice is pleasing; my heart now racing.

My wife is under – her blood slowly stops coursing.

The water touches my neck – my screams drowning with the person who completes me.

Now I can hardly breathe.

“Please.”

My voice is weak; my heart now slowing.

My wife’s hazel eyes catch mine as she floats by.

The water is nearly above me – my tears join the murk below me.

And I no longer want to breathe. 

jmp.

* This poem was inspired by true events that occurred during Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans.

Wanderlust: A Poem

Wanderlust 

I'm in love 

with the souls of those 

who wish to 

wander; 

With those who find 

beauty in 

none other than 

that which they aim to be. 

My soul yearns to escape;

to travel so

very

very

far away from here.

I wish to escape 

this box

that society uses to 

trap me inside 

of...

it's standards,

it's manner

in which it expects me to recede

I want to go

far,

far

away from this reality 

that encases

me.

wanderlust

a word that describes the 

yearning

of being away from here 

I'm in love with

the souls of those 

who wish to wander,

who travel,

who will themselves,

to escape;

to survive 

daily

by being on the outside 

Welcome Home

the outside world whispers

finally

when I let myself

wander.

jmp.