The Sick In My Head

The Sick In My Head

“Pain is never permanent.” ~ Saint Teresa of Avila

Pain is something we can all relate to. It’s not always physical. Sometimes it’s emotional. And more often than I like to admit, that’s where I seem to get stalled. I get stuck in my pain. Trapped in the spider webs of my psyche.

I wish you could see my pain. It’s a crazy sick in my head. It’s hard to describe. But when I close my eyes it becomes frighteningly vivid. Sometimes so loud, it crushes the eardrums of anyone within its range. And other times, it’s low like a faint echo in the distance. But close enough where I can feel it living inside of me. Hibernating in a carved out space within the darkest corner of my core. Where it sits and waits to release just enough venom to remind me of its presence.

Most days I am extremely content. But those times when the pain decides to strike, I can feel it spilling all over me. Running through my mind. Working its way down my spine. Harassing my entire body, from my head to my toes.

It constantly rotates around me like the earth circles the sun. Continually changing the trajectory of my life. Orbiting my spirit. Blazing a fire that burns doubts of my abilities into my subconscious. Touching every vulnerable part of my being as my mind is pushed around until it’s trapped in a corner and attacked. Leaving me to wonder. Why me? What have I done to deserve this?

The power it has over me is undeniable. Its influence causes me to compare myself to others. I keep wondering, “Where’s my wishing well? When are the fairy tales my mother would recite to me as a child going to come true?” I don’t remember Cinderella having a debilitating chronic disease. Snow White didn’t have to use a cane. Sleeping Beauty never went to the doctor just to be told, “Sorry, there is nothing more we can do for you”.

The pain is so repugnant it makes my knees tremble. So demoralizing, it feels like the devil is spitting in my face. So fearful to awaken it, I tiptoe around life issues like a ballerina walking on a bed filled with razor blades.

At its worst, it strikes me over and over with blows to the gut while reverberating in my head like the saddest Sade song stuck on repeat. Turning my existence into some twisted fiction novel, strangers download to their smart phones and read as amusement during their lunch break.

Its manipulation slowly alters the life course I initially designed for myself as an adolescent. And every time I think I have shaken free, it grips my skin and hangs on to strike again. Bashing my mind with a persistent indescribable throbbing. Making me wish for that day when the sun and earth collide and burst into a magnificent new beginning where there is no more fear. Where there is no more pain. Where there is no more sick in my head.

This article represents the opinions, thoughts, and experiences of the author; none of this content has been paid for by any advertiser. The MultipleSclerosis.net team does not recommend or endorse any products or treatments discussed herein. Learn more about how we maintain editorial integrity here.

Comments

View Comments (9)
  • Molly R.
    1 year ago

    I thought it was just me. I don’t remember what it feels like to not be in pain or not be tired all the time. I wish I could…

  • Julie
    1 year ago

    Thank you for your post. You have spoken for many of us. So many don’t understand that MS comes with pain. DIfferent kinds of pain, we aren’t all the same after all. I find it sad that we have to learn to live with the new us. Unfortunately, those that don’t live with the disease won’t understand the pain. This is their problem, not ours. Thank you again for your eloquent words that so many of us can identify with.
    Wishing you the best of health, Julie

  • KyTeacher
    1 year ago

    This is amazing. You were able to capture how many of us feel. I was in awe of your writing. I want to get my feelings down on paper; I think it would be a place to begin healing, to deal with the loss of my former life. Every time I begin writing, it is dry and has no feeling. I am hoping I find my outlet, my release of anger, frustration, sadness as well as hope for a better day. Thank you for sharing your writing and please continue using this gift.

  • Lisa
    2 years ago

    Wow! This must have been very scary to write. I am so impressed with your ability to tackle it. Nicely done. The pain of no longer being me (yes, I know i am still me, just not the me I was) is with me many days.

  • Nicole Lemelle author
    2 years ago

    Lisa,

    We have the same pain. Not being me is so hard. You take years figuring out who you are, then it is all gone. Stay strong and remember to love the new you. Thank u for reading and responding.

  • unreal_cat
    2 years ago

    Well done! I FELT connected to you reading this! Such a rare thing in this sound bite world! Thank you!

    Side note: in the original story of the little mermaid, Ariel suffers from leg pain for the rest of her life.

  • Nicole Lemelle author
    2 years ago

    Thank u. I’m going to have to go back and read The Little Mermaid.

  • kicknMSback
    2 years ago

    You were in rare form then when you wrote this, very vivid and with so many wonderful analogies. Your Muse blessed you kindly, my seems to hung up on me most days. I enjoyed it even though the subject isnt a pleasant one. I found that I was happy for you to have gotten that down so thoroughly cause my pain leaves expressionism out, it stumps me into stupidity. I used to love words. It was if I had a view screen into my old self in the story aspect at least. It is never a good thing when pain has moved from an indication of something wrong or an aspect of healing to no reasoning at all and overwhelming past thought and function. Thank you for bringing this out in the open.

  • Nicole Lemelle author
    2 years ago

    KicknMSback,

    I was scared to write about this subject. I was sure people would not understand. So happy you GOT IT. Thank u. Thank u. Thank u for responing and reading.

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