Monday, February 28, 2011

I Have Lost My Imagination

I spent last night watching the Oscar's. Indulging in the land of the beautiful and glittery, wealthy and connected, mesmerized by what blessed imagination can create. Imagination with no reality cap to reign it in. And it made me realize I have lost my imagination, my playfulness, my belief in a land of rainbows and unicorns. Waking up in the middle of the night and hurting so bad that rolling over to the other side feels like dying. Working so hard to deny this illness had me it its grip, I pushed myself into an emotional breakdown. Every day fighting with myself to remain relevant. A wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend. An employee, a customer, a person. Each yes to an invitation turning into a tearful no at the last minute because I simply could not get it together enough to walk out the door. So many extend-a-stays in the hospital. Pain-killers, drugs, meds, vitamins, all a big experiment to see what is going to work, meanwhile side-effects take over my life. This is hard. We know it, we live it. This is really really hard.

But there is a little kernel of game left inside of me. It comes out when my pain is managed, I have not over-committed and I am in a safe place with safe people. It shows itself when I feel secure and trusting, have had enough sleep and don't have troubles plaguing the forefront of my mind. When I am relaxed, when I am happy. That is when I see the me I remember being before life got hard. Before I became an adult and the reality of exactly what it takes to make it in this world became my reality. Before I got sick and it became all about survival, frivolity no more.

I want my imagination back! I want to laugh and giggle and be silly. I want to dream and work hard and watch it come to fruition. I want my difficulties in life to be normal difficulties, not those of the chronically ill. I want fun! I want to skip down that yellow brick road of possibility in life, not barely hang on by a shoestring. I want to go places and meet people and be spontaneous! Some of the best experiences of my life have been on the back of spontaneity. I want to do a body exchange with a healthy person (skinny would be good too) and run and jump and play my life away! Alas, unfortunately that is not the course I am on right now, and it is frustrating. But I refuse to give up, accept pain and defeat as the sum of my existence. So I am going to pop that kernel, and force the seriousness and sheer misery of life away for a little while. I am going to pop up a whole bucket of kernels and remember what it is like to have fun and be carefree and laugh, not because something is ironically funny but because it truly just is.

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  1. Hi! It's nice to 'meet' you a little more than seeing you around on twitter. :)

    I just wanted to say that I know where you're coming from. Sometimes I see those glimpses of the 'old me' and they're usually at times when I've got less pain than usual, and am relaxing with my best friend / carer. Then I can laugh and have fun and be silly again.

    It's an odd thing. I love that I get to do that sometimes, to just be me, it's one of the things that keeps me going, keeps me fighting ... but there's also something very sad about it ... this kind of pain in the background, loss, I suppose.

    Most of the time I'm a different me now, but I wish it didn't have to be that way.

    Hang onto those moments of silly laughter and fun - we need them in the harder times. :)

  2. I hear you! It's so discouraging to come up with excuses for everything I didn't have energy or just forgot to do. To a healthy person, they sound stupid. "I didn't make the poster cause I had to clean my kitchen." I mean, who gets that? You do, and I am so grateful for your heartfelt insights!

  3. I want to run and jump and play again too!! I say that ALL the time... ;) I think we are fibro-soul mates, I feel your pain, I "get it"... it's all so overwhelming sometimes, isn't it? My symptoms started at age 19, took 5 yrs to get diagnosed, had Dr's tell me "quit school, your glass is too full", and I said "hell NO". I'm now 43, still struggling with this hell that's called fibromyalgia. I will never allow myself to "accept limitations". I just do what I can each day. That's all you can do.