Peppers on my Skin

At first I thought is was just a bit annoying. Then as the seconds passed I realized it was terribly uncomfortable.  How had that touched me gone un-felt?  What was it that activated my senses at this point?  It was like a bad joke that I didn't quite get until after a great deal of time had passed. Awkward social shame and inner dialogue abound.

Now inflamed and irritated.  I found dwelling on it only made it worse for me. Each second was more painful and becoming increasing more irritating.  I felt as if someone had tricked me. I felt as if someone had made a fool of me. I missed the clue and now am paying for the ignorance and innocence.  My anger and frustration turned into stoicism.  I was tough, I could handle it. Endure the heartache once more, the inconvenient frustration, the darkening sadness was palatable in a moment.

Did I do something to deserve this? What kind of choice did I make in this? Conscious or unconscious.  Who would have known that I am highly allergic to the point of distress? Not I.

Like pepper absorbed into my skin. It burned all the way deep into my heart and into my mind.  I was sad, mad, frustrated, hurt and puzzled.  Who would be so cruel to do such a thing?  How could I alleviate the pain and irritation.  The sadness and madness were over-whelming and consuming.  My heart was aching as each minute went by and each breathe escaped my mouth.  The allergic reaction had reached a crucial point like that of a serpent's bite.  Parts of me were shutting down, extremities were numbing and loosing senses. How could I have been so ridiculously stupid to experience this again? I was lost in the pain and and sadness.  I needed to breathe and find my center. To let the reaction take its course and allow me "to ride the tide".  

Wasn't there a way to remedy this?  Finding another pain was always the course of action, distract myself from the symptom, avoid the diagnosis. I remember telling myself that "this was nothing" compared to the last time I had I has such an allergic reaction.  How easily I had forgotten the previous pain and gut wrenching aches and sadness.  I had opened my heart to the caustic possibility of another love.
There I stood again, holding my heart in one hand and my head in other hand.  Sobbing at the wrenching pain and burn.  There wasn't a universal balm available for this burn and ache. I had to do just what I had promised, I had to writhe in pain and understand my human-ness and humanity.  I had to allow my soul to feel that piece of pain and ache, it was my repeated requirement to attaining my advanced degree in humanities from the University of the Cosmos.  Was this one the final exam? Or just another semester under my belt?  As the pain subsides I can raise my head. 

The inflammation is reducing its presence on my soul.  I am reminded that this time I should be wary.  Keep them at an arm's distance.  Until a point, at which I will know, to let that heart forget its allergies and history of heartaches and pain.  This is my antidote, my saving balm, pouring my heart out and rebuilding it again.