I have reached a pause point. After a number of weeks of being organised and on track, meeting my routine expectations, I have hit a lull. My energy is sapped my thoughts have disappeared; thinking is too much of an effort, as is doing. I am declaring rest time before I fall into the quagmire. I write now with one hand in a support glove, my good wrist splint has vanished, my wrist feels fractured even though I know it is not. The dull aching pain with shooting explosions will cease as magically as it appeared, I have done nothing to exacerbate it, unless writing these few paragraphs is the cause. My glands are up, creating that ghastly double chin look, small rocks in my jaw line, marking time, awaiting the opportunity to expand and begin the roll to viral tonsilitis or flu.
I’m at that point, I move forward, feel a sense of order and calm, even dare to hope, my balloon is rising and then the sharp pin goes in and out and my balloon slowly deflates. Little by little, I feel the power leaving me like the helium seeping out.
I can write nothing but this, I will return home, (I’m in the library, a doctor’s appointment got me out early, that’s another story.) baton down the hatches, turn on the heating and pretend to myself that it is nice to snuggle up on a cold day, that I don’t want to write or dance, or chat or shop, or walk with the dogs, or read, or anything at all. I will put a simple meal together, a rarity (again another story)in itself, eat and sleep and wait and recharge my leaking battery.
Til the next time,
Chris. xx
Living With ME 