Standing in the Rain

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This week was hard. Most days, I barely made it out of bed. Then came the news I wasn’t ready for—my endometriosis has spread to my spinal nerve endings, and my connective tissue disease is deteriorating a couple of my spinal discs. I broke down. The weight of it all pressed against me—the relentless pain of endometriosis, the deep, aching fatigue of fibromyalgia, the unpredictable flares of lupus, the discomfort of Sjögren’s disease. It felt like my body was waging war against me on every front.

Some days, living with chronic illness feels like standing in the middle of a storm with no shelter. The wind is relentless, the rain unyielding, and no matter how much you brace yourself, it still knocks you off your feet. But even through the exhaustion, I did what I always do when words feel too heavy to carry. I wrote.

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The Poem Itself

Some days, my body feels like
a house with broken windows,
and the wind doesn’t knock before it enters.
It moves through me, rattling the walls,
stirring up dust from a time I barely remember.

The sun still rises, still reaches for me,
but some mornings, I don’t feel its warmth.
My bones carry the weight of yesterday,
of battles no one else can see.

But I am still here.
Even with the cracks,
even with the shaking ground.
I wake up. I breathe. I keep going.

And maybe that is strength—
not waiting for the storm to pass,
but learning how to stand in the rain,
how to dance with the wind,
how to hold onto the quiet moments in between.

—

D.L. Heather

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Reflection/Analysis

Writing this poem helped me shift my perspective. I often think of strength as pushing through, as enduring—but maybe it’s also in the way we stand in the storm without letting it drown us. Maybe it’s in the quiet acceptance of the body we have, even when it feels like a house falling apart.

That’s what this poem is really about—the quiet, unseen strength it takes to keep going. To wake up when you’d rather stay in bed. To hold onto hope, even when it feels out of reach. To remind yourself that even if today is hard, there is still warmth, still light, still something worth holding onto.

If you’re in a season of pain, if your body feels unfamiliar, if you’re exhausted and grieving the version of yourself you once knew—I see you. I am right there with you. And even in the midst of it all, I hope you find moments of stillness, moments where the weight feels lighter. I hope you find a way to stand in the rain, to dance with the wind, to hold onto the quiet spaces in between—because even here, even now, you are not alone.

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Write It Out

Writing can be a way to process what feels too heavy to say out loud. If this poem resonated with you, take a few moments to reflect and write:

🖊 If your body or mind was a house, how would you describe it? What does it feel like inside? What memories live there?

🖊 Write a letter to yourself on a hard day. What do you need to hear? What reminder would help you keep going?

Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, or just with yourself.

Thank you for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts—what does this poem bring up for you?

Debra 💛

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