Diagnosis

It’s been hard to come to terms with the fact

that all those times I’ve felt so wrong,

Isolated,

Broken,

Desperate for understanding,

Yearning for kindness and compassion,

The reason hasn’t been me at all. It’s been you.

You and the shattered being you made me into.

Piece by piece, I may have glued myself back together,

but the me I am now has never felt right.

Things have changed, though.

With a diagnosis in hand, I look back

Searching through memories,

Thoughts,

Feelings,

Fears,

Insecurities,

Experiences,

Struggles -

All of it ripping through my mind like blinding shards of glass.

With my diagnosis in hand, I see my life with new eyes.

Instead of looking through a kaleidoscope of fractured colour and seeing nothing more than chaos,

The perspective changes and finally I can see what I have always been.

Polished stained glass lined with gold

Vibrant reds,

Deep blues,

Emerald greens

A growing garden of roses in bloom.

Intricate and priceless, except for the small, radiating web of cracks

Surrounding the hole left by you.

With diagnosis in hand,

That hole will be filled

And I can finally recover

from ever knowing you.