The pain…it is all relative. Some days I can handle it better than others, but it is my constant companion. I must continuously remind myself to breathe and relax my shoulders, so they are not at my ears all day. And as usual I hide behind my smile. Those who do not know me see a shining happy spirit. If they catch a grimace cross my face, a brief glimpse behind my mask, they ask me what is wrong. I have no clue to what they are referring to and I reply “nothing.” Because to me it is nothing but the usual torments.
This constant yoke of pain wears on me and there is never a time when I am not tired. I may have just awoken from eight hours of sleep, but I feel like I haven’t slept in days. My sleep is not a rejuvenating sleep and I often hurt worse in the morning than when I laid down the night before. Every morning I have to will my body to move. Once I start to move it is like dragging broken limbs thru the mud, painful and slow. To say I am not a morning person is an understatement.
You try to speak to me, but I do not respond right away. Forgive me, but my mind is racing to decipher each word spoken, pulling them out of the jumbled mess I hear and placing them in their proper context. Before I can think thru my own response it stumbles out the door of my mouth. Was that the right word? No, I don’t think that is the word I meant. Dang autocorrect. I think I need a new app, hopefully you can decipher what I meant.
Where is my oil can? My joints all pop and creak when I move, like a bowl of rice krispies in milk. I have the body of a tin man, and a brain of a scarecrow. But I continue on and face each day like the fiecest of lions. I dream of one day finding my ruby slippers to go back to a body that doesn’t rebel so. A girl can dream.
TSKTSK2U 