Throughout this never ending fibro journey I’ve had the pleasure to connect with more than a few A+mazing people. People who like myself, push through the ache, pain, fatigue, loneliness, desperation, and emotional roller coaster that this illness illicits each and every day. People who fight to live as full of a life as possible. People who use words and art as a way to express their pain, frustration, and despair; as well as to empower others to keep going no matter what.
”Today’s featured writing is titled: “Stuck”
“Stuck” is a piece written by a very special fibro brother of mine Allan Campbell . I met Allan through the online support group; For Fibro Men. This writing is an exert from this soon to be published book of the same title. His words have a emotional depth and poignancy that I’m sure many men (and women) can relate to. Thanks for sharing Allan 🙂
by Roger Allan Campbell
I’m lying next to my wife in what feels like sandpaper bed sheets, rough, and jagged edged thread counts, with our heads on paper thin pillows. I look at her face and try to kiss her, but her face is turned away. Did she turn it away or was it already like that? Why can’t I remember? Her hair is blocking her face and my insecurities can’t tell if she is sleeping. I just lie there in the dark trying to get closer, feeling her hair up against my skin, which burns and it is lit up tingling and on fire. I can feel every strand touching my face. I am Depressed, because even though we are so close it feels like an invisible wall is moving her away, and her closed off posture tells me there is nothing I can do to keep her in the bed with me. Where is our love headed now? Because I miss what we had. I miss us lying down together and listening to our favorite classic songs. I can hear them in my head now as I write this. I miss us being together and just staring back and forth out of pure surrealistic love. What has happened to bring us to this point? Because I miss where we were, I just want to hug you more than anything and I want you to kiss me and look at me again like you did the first night we met. THE FIRST NIGHT BEFORE THIS PAIN CHANGED ME. You loved me then didn’t you? I remember that you said you did, you always said you did…
I’m outside of the blanket now, and it hurts, and it hurts, and it hurts, I want to cry but I can never sleep. I just feel weird. What can I do to change this and change me because it’s hurting me more every single day. The alarm clock seems broken but it still flashes and blinks and stares back at me when it’s 3am and only the two of us are awake in my house. I want to touch her arm and tell her everything is fine and everything will be the same again. I want to have that undying faith but I don’t. My back’s up against the wall and I’m in the 11th round, but this is a bed and not a ring, and the ring of my life feels broken. I’m staring right at the person who has stayed with me even at times I abandoned myself. It’s so quiet it’s maddening! Maybe if I can just get some sleep things will be fine again in the morning, right? Oh wait, it is morning already. You don’t have to leave, let’s just lie here and pretend we’re stuck. It feels like we’re stuck anyways.
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