Topic: The Invisible War (something I wrote the other day)
arg82
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 161
posted
So, some days I just get an idea in my head and some creative writing just comes flowing out. This happened the other day and I wanted to share it with all of you. I hope you can relate to it (I'm sure many of you can).
The Invisible War
I'm waging a war today. My eyes are bloodshot and sore but, no, they did not get that way from a long night of drinking (oh, how I wish they could have gotten their red tint from drinks). My head pounds. I feel every skipped heartbeat, breath catching in my throat and leaving me a little scared of what each little missed thump means. My cold hands and feet are buried under covers, exhaustion leaves every cell heavy. My stomach churns and threatens upheaval. Today blurs into yesterday and soon tomorrow will become part of that blur. The battle continues...
Perhaps it would be easier for you if my scars were visible. Perhaps you would find it easier if you could see my headache, if I could draw lightning bolts coming out of my forehead and temples. Maybe you could understand a little better if my cold hands and feet turned blue or if each skipped heartbeat could be seen on the outside. If I was bruised and battered on the outside the way I'm bruised and battered on the inside you wouldn't question my illness, how I'm feeling, my disabilities, this war.
I blend in, I look fine, I hide myself beneath this skin that has become a cloak and a mask. You can't see the battles, the battalions that I send out everyday in an attempt to fight an invisible enemy. You can't see the profound amount of energy it takes to do the simple things because so much goes towards fighting off the ever-advancing enemy lines. A shower is exhausting, a trip to the grocery store out of the question on all but my best days, and "pushing it" to go out and do more "fun" things leads to days or weeks in bed recuperating.
This is life. This is the invisible war that no one can see, but I can feel. I fight for myself. I fight for you, that person out there who supports me and cares that I'm here and brightening up the world in whatever small way I can. I fight for my friends, those amazing people who are there for me, even when they themselves are fighting their own wars and feeling as bad as I am (or worse) - they offer themselves unselfishly and I have become more a part of the world even as my body fades and seems to become less a part of it. I fight for life, because the alternative is to give up, and giving up is never an option.
Don't ever quit fighting; one day you will win this war. And remember, there are many of us here who do care a great deal about you and feel we are better for having the privilege of knowing you!
Hang in there and don't give up. I feel like brighter days are ahead for you.
Wishing you Wellness, Suzy
Posts: 260 | From Virginia | Registered: Jul 2004
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trails
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 1620
posted
Thanks for letting us read these thoughts!
Keep writing...I am a secret journal reader of yours...I mean, I go there sometimes and find inspiration and comraderie...I have never signed the guest book. I am shy.
But this is meant to tell you that you influence so many, many more than you will ever know with your writing.
Hope you are having a pain free day! Trails
Posts: 1950 | From New Mexico | Registered: Sep 2001
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arg82
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 161
posted
Thanks so much for all the feedback and support. Every once in a while (sometimes more often than other times) something like this just comes flowing out. I wrote another similar thing a few weeks ago that was a metaphor of a day at the amusement park (I guess I'm into metaphors, lol). Here it is for your perusal and hopefully you'll identify with it. (If you like these, you can visit either my blog or Penguin Writings, my more creative writing blog.)
A Day at the Amusement Park
I have this image in my mind - all of us are at the amusement park. We're all in line for tickets to go on the rides. Some people choose to go on the Merry-Go-Round, some choose the Sudden Plummet Drop, some get in line for the roller coaster that throws you upside down and leaves your neck slightly out of line from the rest of your body, and some people choose to play it safe and keep their feet on solid ground altogether. For the most part, everyone has a great time at the amusement park. The Sudden Plummet Drop provides just enough of a stomach lurch to make you bypass the next snack bar but you recover quickly enough not to think twice before jumping at a second ride on it; the games are a good balance of frustrating and satisfying and those big teddy bears are always just out of reach for most; the cotton candy is sweet and the hamburgers piled high with ketchup and pickles.
But for some of us at the amusement park, somehow we get stuck on the wrong ride. Our tickets were for the go carts, but somehow we ended up on the roller coaster - the one that twists and turns, plummets down a huge drop leaving you nauseous only to whip around a turn so fast that you're not sure where you left your stomach. And just when you think the ride is over and you'll finally come to a stop and have the straps holding you in loosened to let you out on solid ground again, you see that you've only come to another mountain to climb inevitably followed by another hill to go down. For a while you think the ride is just temporary and after a while you'll be able to get off and go enjoy the rest of our day at the amusement park, go have your ride on the go carts, have your cotton candy, and win your stuffed animals (or at least try). But after a while you realize it's not going to be that simple. This isn't going to be a normal day at the park. So you start looking around for someone to help, someone to show your ticket to so you can prove you weren't supposed to be on this ride at all and there has been some terrible mistake. But no one is there to listen to the mistake that has been made. And you panic.
Perhaps panic isn't the right word. Panic implies that one knows something about what's going on with the situation. In this case, it's more like anxiety or fear of the unknown. You are alone on this roller coaster car, barreling along this track through twists and turns, ups and downs, with no idea where you're going to end up or whether or not the next crook will bring the end of the journey or just another neck-cracking bend. You're isolated on a ride you never signed up for and you don't know what is happening. Can you imagine this? This is what it's like to live with a chronic illness.
But slowly...very, very slowly...you begin to see another car in the distance ahead of you. It's on a path just next to yours and isn't going quite as fast as you are, as though it has found a little more of a steady pace but still isn't quite sure of it's path. As you approach the car, you can see that there is another person in the car, looking just as alone and confused and scared as you feel. Eventually you come up next to the other car and give the other passenger a friendly smile, trying to make you both feel a little more at ease. You have never met before but you both instantly know that you have been through the same thing so you have an understanding and without explaining you are able to comfort each other. You don't feel so alone, but still neither of you has any idea where you will end up.
Over time, you meet up with more cars. That same understanding is shared, despite the fact that each of us have come from different lives before we decided to come to the amusement park that day. Each car is on its own track with different twists and turns and hills to climb, but along the way the tracks run close together so we don't feel so alone as we go through them.
Fortunately, this is what it's like to live with a chronic illness when you have friends who know. They understand. It's hard to find friends in your real life who know what you're going through, they are few and far between. But in the world of online groups, friends are as close as your computer. And without ever meeting them they understand what you're going through. They're there during the hard times when the ride seems never-ending and nothing seems to be going right. They're there when things finally start to look up and you can celebrate that the ride is becoming a little smoother. And eventually you may be able to get off the ride altogether and enjoy a nice day at the amusement park with these friends. Maybe the break won't be forever; maybe just long enough to get that cotton candy and maybe grab a game of ring toss, but enough to remember that life isn't always about preparing yourself for the next obstacle. And in the mean time, the twists and turns, the hills and valleys all seem a little less difficult to handle when you're facing them with people who really know what it's like.
posted
Awwww man! I could relate with the first article, but could even more so with the second one, at the amusement park...very nicely written!
I used to be quite a creative writer too, used to write a lot of poems and journal essays. But now, I don't seem to have the capacity for it like I used to, which also includes handling any creative crafts.
Seems like I am too distracted and don't have as much patience to do it. Plus, I grew up with a type 'A' personality and if I felt that I couldn't do something well, then I won't bother to do it at all.
If I started on something but don't have the energy or enough creativity to finish it the way I want it to be done or know I could do it if only ALL of me were right there, then I'd end up deserting that poor creation on the sideline in boxes, bags, nooks and crannies that just keeps piling up.
Days, months, years later... I come across an unfinished project here and there, and think to myself,...ah, if only I didn't have so much overwhelming things to do, how I'd like to be able to sit down and finish something that could be so intrinsically rewarding!
Whenever I do try to take up a creative project or so, sooner or later my guilty conscience will sneak up on me and nudge me about the many household tasks and chores that constantly needs to be done.
It doesn't matter how slowly or quickly I manage to get one or two done, it seems to pop right back faster, waiting to be done again & again. Eegaads, there is no appreciation or satisfaction for these type of tasks.
Huffing & puffing, I crawl back into bed burnout from such endless, mindless chores, trying to recover & restore my energy, yet I can't get any wholesome sleep while my guilty conscience continues to nag me that there is still more to be done out there.
Ahh, how I used to so enjoy LIFE, feel so alive and free to explore the world, experience new things & culture, meet people, create and write my views on all these various experiences.
Time to appreciate and enjoy seems so limited, is it just me or does everyone in general feel this way? Do the healthy feel boxed in or obscured from such pasttimes?
~ Trazy
[ 22. February 2006, 11:50 AM: Message edited by: Moose ]
Posts: 90 | From Maryland | Registered: Jan 2006
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hopeful123
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 3244
posted
MOOSE TRAZY thanks for sharing. i really could relate about the loss of creativity and how much that hurts.
one problem. most of us have trouble with eyes and brains so an entire post in one paragraph is very difficult to read. i gave up about half way through and i know you had good things to say.
if you wouldn't mind, break your posts up in small paragraphs so we can discover what you have to say. thanks
thanks again
-------------------- some days you're the bug, some days you're the windshield Posts: 1160 | From NY | Registered: Oct 2002
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Andie333
Frequent Contributor (1K+ posts)
Member # 7370
posted
Annie,
The amusement park is a wonderful metaphor and one I could definitely relate to. Thanks for posting both your pieces. Now, when I have time, I'll check out your lyme journal.
I keep a journal about this disease too. I knew I was so lyme-brained I'd never remember anything if I didn't write it down, and I didn't have the energy to write by hand. Mine's online but I've kept it private.
I'm a writer...because it's what I have always known about myself and I've been doing this professionally for years. I've been a journalist, but working with kids has started stirring up all this creative energy in me.
Unfortunately, it doesn't go far. My mind's scattered, emotions frayed, energy sapped.
Some days I start thinking about who I'm going to be when I'm not shackled by this horrible illness...because I realize I don't know.
For me, that's a wonderful thought!
Again, Annie, words matter and nobody on earth or in all of time can say what you have to say. As I see it, that makes you indispensible.
Andie
Posts: 2549 | From never never land | Registered: May 2005
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