I'll wait for you. [Will you wait for me too?]

Somewhere in his body--perhaps in the marrow of his bones--he would continue to feel her absence." -Haruki Murakami

my bones ache, and the marrow it aches too, and my heart aches in a way I didn't know hearts could ache, but at some point i stopped being able to tell the difference between all the aches-the body aches, turned in to heart ache, and vice-versa. i'm "in it," [i heard them say that in a movie once, and it made a lot of sense to me at the time, but i don't think you can ever understand until you're "in it" too.] i was "in it" before i even knew I was "in it." It sneaks up on you like that, and now i'm neck deep in the pain. my pain, your pain, your brother's pain, and his wife's pain too, the pain of the human condition-I feel that too. i never thought this is what they meant. I never thought this is where it would lead me. but i'm here. i'm here, and i'll do the work, and i'll be "in it" until i'm not "in it" anymore. and then it'll be over. and i'll be free. i have faith in that - in my freedom.

Freedom is what you've done, with what has been done to you.

There's a house for sale. An old woman still lives there. She's dying inside. And her children are already selling her things. And it's sad. Not because "things" matter, but because the old woman doesn't know it's happening, and all she feels is pain, and nostalgia, but she's not sure for what because she can't remember anymore. She doesn't remember the names of her children anymore either, or what is so special, or not so special, about all the "things" that they are selling to strangers who keep coming to the house. She doesn't even know that these people are strangers, because her children are strangers to her now too, so it doesn't really make a difference. All she knows is that there are faces: some the same, some different, she can't remember their names, or if she's seen them before - they all seem new, so it doesn't really matter who they are, or what their names are, or where they came from, or if they are her children, because in two minutes she won't remember anyways. And it's sad. Not because she can't remember, but because her children have grown apathetic, and never bother to explain to their mother what is going on, or why she is in pain, or why she is loosing her hair -or what hair is for that matter- and why her hands no longer look like her own, and why they don't want to work like they use to. All she knows is there's an old woman in a house [it is her house, but she doesn't remember that], laying in a bed [it's her bed, but she doesn't remember that], wearing a stained nightgown [it is her nightgown, but she does not remember that either], this old woman has taken her hostage and is hurting her, and no one will explain -that this woman, is her.

Posted from Blogium for iPhone

SOS

Hi Beth,

I spoke with a friend of mine who was diagnosed with fibro too, she gave me some really inspiring advice. I feel hopeful, but she says I need to be patient with myself - and that is very difficult for me, because I always expect greatness, and most days "greatnss" consists of getting out of bed and brushing my hair and actually making it to classes. She's rather spiritual, and she helped me realize that this is just a time to "learn," and a reminder to be silent and slow down and "work on my heart." I've always tried to avoid feeling pain, physical or emotional, I've always had a way to numb it - with my eating disorder, or a busy schedule, or being medicated... but with physical pain like this, I can't avoid it. It's a reminder that I have to feel, I can not numb this. She said something that keeps repeating in my head, cause it is exactly how I feel "It's like a loose rat finding new parts of my body to torture." It makes me acknowledge all the things that are both physically and emotionally painful... and the physical pain makes everything emotional seem so much more painful as well. It's such a trap. I feel trapped. There are knots inside of me, dozens, hundreds, thousands, both big and small, knotted so tightly around each other, and I feel like my fingers are just fumbling numbly to undo the mess, but they're so tangled, and my fingers are so tired and are always the wrong size for the knot they are working on, and I need patience, and I need to focus on one knot at a time, and then maybe it will free up the opportunity to undo another knot, but maybe it won't, and maybe if I work too aggressively I'll just create another mess of knots and pain that'll bury the rest of them deeper... - kind of like a tangle of necklaces in a jewelry box. That is how my insides feel.

-Ali