This song started as a poem.
Just fragments at first—lines scribbled here and there while I tried to make sense of the grief, the anger, and the confusion that come with being sick.
Incurably sick.
After more than twenty years of medical gaslighting, misdiagnosis, and the kind of medical trauma that leaves marks no one can see.
Somewhere along the way, the poem became a lullaby.
A coping mechanism.
The kind that shows up at 2 AM on the worst pain nights.
The kind you repeat to yourself when your body won't cooperate, when getting dressed feels like climbing Everest, and "I'm fine" becomes the biggest lie you tell all day.
At first, I thought I was writing it for myself.
But somewhere along the way, I realized I was writing it for all of us.
For every spoonie who has ever been called lazy.
For every person who has canceled plans and cried about it afterward.
For everyone measuring life in flares, heating pads, medication alarms, specialist appointments, and backup plans.
For the people grieving the life they thought they would have.
For the people carrying more pain than anyone around them realizes.
For the people who keep showing up anyway.
Because that is the part no one talks about.
Not how sick we are.
How brave we are.
The courage it takes to wake up in a body that hurts and choose to stay.
To keep hoping.
To keep trying.
To keep building a life inside circumstances you never asked for.
Because staying—
when your body hurts,
when your heart is tired,
when nobody understands—
is one of the bravest things I know.
More Than You Know is my love letter to this community.
For every one of us still here.
More than You Know is out now on all streaming platforms.