At least;

Genna Luisa

Genna Luisa is a writer, a poet, a journalist, an editor and most of all: a human. Born and raised in Berlin, she lives with a cluster of complex chronic conditions, including Endometriosis, Adenomyosis, HSD/hEDS and comorbidities. Despite these health challenges being evidently disabling, they have been undiagnosed for 15-21 years, as well as mistreated and misdiagnosed within the German healthcare system’s sexist and ableist structures. Living with a dynamic disability and rare invisible dis-eases has taught some tough lessons and made some great articles about health, society and culture as well as their intersection. When not writing, the FLINTA* authoress is trying to advocate for better, equal health care — without discrimination.

At least;

And my joints sound like fire crackers,

popping bubble wrap paper around my every bone

I wrap my arms around myself

the comfort of my very own straightjacket;

I know this is nothing terminal

“at least”

but sometimes,

it sure feels like a life sentence

for a crime I did not commit.

How admirably equitable to everyone,

see, no matter the age, postcode – status, what we do or don’t.

There is something just in this tragedy.

I am here now, I am breathing, I am hurting.

I too, am disabled, unwell and ill. And you will be, eventually.

Still, they tell me I am too young to be suffering the ways I do

too female, of course,

they tell me that I’m crazy and they call me hysterical

Am sick and tired,

my new affirmation, I am sick and tired

of being called

wise and strong;

let alone the strongest person you ever met

while simultaneously being that one person you know, suffering from

chronic conditions so rare my friends still learn how to pronounce them

it made me softer, gentle, tender

In contradictions I live.

torn between my new normal which refuses to feel anything but inhumane.

At least,

{that’s what I whisper to myself at night} [bittersweet lullaby]

Life’s not fair and it is short

But we are all gonna die and be sick inevitably

By the time my friends become, I will know how to hold them;