Tag Archives for Spoonie Problems

Blocked From Writing

Writer’s block is a terrible affliction. I have so much happening in my life that I want and need to write about but my brain seems to be locked in a struggle with itself about which story to tell first and how to tell them. I started my blog as one way to cope with my illness so I wasn’t trapped inside my own thoughts, especially the negative ones. However, lately, even with so much happening to and around me, I can’t let much of it out. I must have at least half a dozen posts started but they are each a long way from finished.

Luckily, I’ve been able to maintain my connection to the creative practice that I also started as another method of coping, so the art is still being created. I’ve been posting what I’ve been creating on my Instagram page, which I suppose is a small release because I do write captions for the things I share. Still, I need to figure out a way to clear the cobwebs or lift the brain fog – whichever idiom is more suitable – so I can get back to documenting and sharing my experiences with the unending hope that what I write helps someone have a better day, as much as it usually helps me.

IC #7 – Colour Cubes – 1
IC #7 – Colour Cubes – 2

 

Pain Tears

Waking up and feeling pain so intense it makes me cry is becoming a regular occurrence, at least it seems to be. This morning, when I got up to take my early morning dose of medications I was met with such terrible pelvic and hip pain it caused my eyes to water. I didn’t cry for as long as I did one morning about a week ago, but getting to this point with pain is more common now. I’m not certain if it’s the arrival of colder temperatures or because my sleep is so erratic, but whichever it is, it’s taking an emotional toll.

I almost long for the days when after running long distances my body would ache in places I didn’t know could hurt. Because that pain was different. That pain reminded me that I was active. It made me think about whether I needed to improve or change something in my stride as I ran. It made me question if I needed a new pair of running shoes or if I needed to stretch more before or after a long run. That pain, the pain that erupted in my body after running 10, 15, or even 25 kilometers (6 to 15 miles), reminded me that my body was strong and I was using it and pushing its limits.

This pain makes me feel defeated even before I’ve risen from my bed. This pain that makes me cry tells me I may never run the distances I did in the past nor feel the freedom of unencumbered movement from a healthy active body. Maybe that’s the reason I cry. Maybe without being conscious of the loss, my body – actually, my muscle memory – is mourning deeply and the only way to express it is through tears. Tears that are sometimes brief and at others pour out an hour’s worth.

At times, like this morning, when the pain is so bad that all I can do is cry, I long for the days when my body ached from the known punishment of running for hours…

Pain Tears - December 2017
Pain Tears – December 2017
Pain Tears - Colour - December 2017
Pain Tears – Colour – December 2017

 

Almost Like Old Times

I had leftover pizza for lunch today. Leftover pizza can be a nice thing. And when it’s leftover from a spontaneous late evening dinner on my patio with one of my oldest and dearest friends, it’s even better.

Yesterday my friend M, who I’ve known forever, sent me a text message at the end of his work day to see what I was up to for the evening. As I wrote then, my mood was quite low on top of my pain level being quite high, but instead of telling him that I asked what he had in mind. He asked if I was up for a visit or if I wanted to go out to get a bite to eat. I didn’t want to do either, but I wrote back asking what his preference was and reminded him that we could get some food and eat on my patio. He thought that was a perfect idea and called me so we could decide what to eat. We quickly decided on a pizza with hot wings on the side, which I ordered while he drove to my place.

Within an hour, we were sitting in the dim evening light on my patio eating pizza and laughing almost like old times. Except that in the past, after receiving his text message or call, I would have thrown on some clothes, he’d come by to pick me up, and then we would drive until we decided what was good to eat in whichever direction the car was heading. I miss those days a lot. Life’s spontaneity is no longer something to which I can surrender. Every moment of my life that requires a large output of energy requires planning. I have to map how long it takes to get ready, whether someone will pick me up or I’ll schedule a ride (a taxi or Über), how long I’ll be able to stand if seats aren’t available, whether available seats are comfortable enough to sit in for the duration of the event, and how long I may need for recovery when it’s all over.

Nonetheless, my friends do their best to understand. Even though they know I might have to cancel at the last-minute, they try to do all they can to make my life feel normal. The latest accommodation they are willing to make is bringing the fun to my home, which thankfully is what happened last night. As blue as I felt yesterday about living through another summer trapped indoors by pain; my friend M lifted much of that mood. Him touching base with me at the end of the day to see what I was up to doing, as he often did in the past, brought me back to feeling what things used to be like for a few short hours, before my pain forced its way back to center stage.