“What You Fear in the Night”

 

“What you fear in the night in the day comes to call anyway/And we all get burned…”

~Einstein On The Beach (For An Eggman) by Counting Crows

I fell asleep before 9p after a terribly painful, long Sunday. Right side of the neck pain, specifically. Like someone pressing on a bruise or sore muscle, with no easing of pressure until what used to be an unimaginable number of meds (plus upper body stretches and compounded pain and CBD creams) finally released me from fibro pain’s nauseating, maddening, disgusting, dizzying grip.

It was a day of awful pain balanced with trying to keep my daughters from worrying about me, which as empathetic creatures, they do often. The balance isn’t easy, but I’ve come to accept these can’t live with/can’t live without my daughters days where it’s almost impossible to hide my agony while also being cheered by their sweet affection, quirks, stories, and endless requests from Junebug (4) for more “milkie.”

The pain might have originated from poor sleep (see: kids!), a change in weather, waking up cold this morning, or just the enigma that is the disorder of fibromyalgia. Tonight I woke up with a start just after midnight. Hours and 2mg! of Klonopin later my heart is still pounding. Writing helps, as does knowing that tomorrow I have an “easy,” low responsibility day while my daughters are in school, plus phenomenal afternoon sitter help.

Oh anxiety. Oh fatigue and insomnia. Oh middle of the night thoughts and fears.

Oh fibro. You are a lioness hiding in the tall grass, waiting for the kill. You’re a pain in my neck. And my hands. And my back. I am paralyzed by your power. Paralyzed, but I will not be your prey. I am a #fibrowarrior. I am the same powerful moi that has dealt with countless emotional and physical blows since middle school. But I still stop to smell (and plant) the roses; have gigglefests with my little lady loves; love Husband immensely; and wish for “unlimited money” so I can donate huge sums to all the charities. (“We don’t have unlimited money” is a phrase I use to explain to my daughters why they cannot have, for example, a $200! “Barbie Dreamhouse” for cost and also on principal.) 

Oh fibro and all of your baggage, you are like the mighty Mississippi. Your strong currents weigh me down and send me spinning. But I have been a strong swimmer since before I could talk. The new rose bushes we planted are blooming. The empty monarch chrysalis on our porch brought new life to the world because of our butterfly garden. In tonight’s writing I have found some peace. My heart is pounding a little less. Now, a dropper of CBD tincture, and back to bed until I hear the inevitable call of “Mommmmmmyyyyyy” in a few hours. I wish I could sleep on my own terms, especially on ‘fearful, burning nights.’ Though without my presence being in such high and beautiful demand, I might be sucked under and let the current take me.

Oh fibro, the lionness and mightiest of rivers! You are no match for my love. Love trumps pain, suffering, and frustration. Love wins every time. What is pulling on you? Who or what is your buoy or lifeboat? What do you do to fall back asleep?

 

 

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