Observing You

Dear Fibro,

Today, I feel like you are hovering all around me, like you’ve fashioned yourself into a suit of scouring pads, hugging me tightly at every turn. I can’t remove you while you scrub into me. Abrasive to my peace of mind. Bruising me with invisible bruises. 

I feel the weight of you with each move I try to make. Whether I sit, stand or lie down, each position brings its own individual challenges — stabs, jabs, or prickles of pain. Shooting pain or radiating pain. A never-ending menu of surprises.

I stare at you in the mirror sometimes, and it’s like staring at myself but more elusive.

This week, I noticed that I have worn a hole in my sheet with restless legs in pain at night.

I have no questions for you now — just making these observations so that I can remember these days.

~Nicole

Can You?

Dear Fibro,

Today, I want you to remember one thing – I am more than this body. More than pain that shakes me. More than sleep that knocks me out cold for a dozen hours and beyond — more than everything somatic. I am a scandalous cocktail of ideas and feelings and desires. I know that sometimes you aren’t able to open yourself up to considering the bigger picture, to taking this all in. Can you open your arms up wide enough?

~Nicole