My poem for my journey

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Between Shadows and Strength

There is weight at the base of my skull,

a pressure only I can feel—

not silence, not peace,

but a steady drum that never lets go.

I walk through each day

with an invisible storm,

head heavy, eyes clouded,

and still, I rise.

The world sees my smile,

but not the trembling behind it,

the aching temples,

the knot in my throat.

I am not broken,

though the pain tries to convince me.

I am not weak,

though my body feels worn.

I am still here,

fighting a ghost stitched into my brain,

and in my persistence

there is a quiet kind of victory.

Even on the hardest nights,

when pressure swells and memory falters,

I remind myself—

I am more than Chiari.

I am still me.

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Just be patient. Keep moving gently, try to get a massage, if you find an excellent consultant who have had experience with decompression,have it done, l used to suffer do much and in a wheelchair, l was blessed & lucky to have decompression by the best surgeon in the UK. Now l am walking, and 70% normal, l can’t do look up for more than 2 minutes, l am struggling walking up & down (uneven road) l have to keep changing position when sleeping with a very soft pillow. But don’t give up, life is a blessed.

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I thought your poem was spot on. You captured the way so many of us feel beautifully. Thank you for sharing. May you have more good days than bad. :purple_heart: