“It’s vital to remember who you really are. It’s very important. It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.”
From Sourcery by Terry Pratchett
According to BBC weather, it’s 21° C and cloudy outside. Sitting in my bedroom with my window flung wide open, sweating like a pig and hating the sun… I beg to differ. I went outside earlier for a cigarette, and after a couple of minutes I could already feel my shoulders and face burning in the heat. I know a lot of my readers are from the USA, and I don’t know if news of the UK’s weather has reached that far but… it’s hot. Very hot. Yesterday was showing 30° outside, and it’s much the same today apart from a breeze coming off the coast.
Don’t get me wrong; I love summer. I love the green trees and being able to wear sandals. I love how the sun brings out my freckles and gives my normally grey face some colour. I don’t tan – natural gingers just burn, and burn badly – but the sun clears my skin up and makes me look healthy; something which doesn’t happen often.
Of course, sunshine also helps with pain; a lot. I love the first warm day of the year, knowing my muscles and joints will calm down for a while and give me some respite. However there’s such a thing as too warm, and this is it. Lyrica and Celebrex don’t seem able to cope with the neck muscle spasms which too much heat brings; last night I was in agony, moody and sweaty and trying to move my head to the side with little success. My head pounded, and my jaw muscles ached every time I opened my mouth. This is the bad side of summer.
So, I’m holed up in my bedroom, drinking cold coffee and wasting time on the internet. My brain feels like it’s melted; fibro-fog ahoy.
I feel guilty. I’ve been invited to a going-away party for somebody I know online, through a local forum. We were supposed to be meeting at 1pm outside an ice-cream parlour in town, but as much as I’d like to, the combination of unexpected pain and fatigue (and general anxiety) have put paid to any plans. I’m too nervous. Too shy. Too self-aware of my weight and looks. Too hot. Too achey.
I could have admitted to that, but I lied. As I always do in these situations. I don’t know why I can’t just admit that I’m not up to socialising; it’s hardly the biggest crime in the world. I just feel ashamed, I suppose. I don’t want to seem weak. I don’t want to be the always-sickly one who never comes out because I’m constantly unwell. I just want to be normal sometimes, and refuse for normal reasons.
I feel so uncomfortable and restless today. Nothing can hold my attention. Sleep is tempting, but I don’t want to ruin the almost-normal sleeping pattern I’ve created since starting Lyrica. I have the first three seasons of ER to watch, but I don’t want to stare at the TV screen. I don’t want to read. I’m happy, but just feeling physically drained by the heat.
As always, the weekend was glorious. I don’t usually write much about my weekends with S; regular readers know we spend a lot of time doing the same things – playing computer games, cooking, reading together – and I don’t want to bore anybody with my relationship. However, this weekend was different. Firstly, I felt something I’ve never felt before. I don’t know what to call it – it’s not love, because I already feel that for S – and I don’t even know how to describe it.
We were lying together on his bed, naked and chatting about little things. His arm was draped over my waist, and our heads were touching, our faces almost totally squashed into each other. We do this a lot, usually after sex; S has never been one for just turning over and falling asleep or getting up to do something else. After sex, he holds me. Every single time. He cuddles me close and we talk. It’s fantastic; something I’ve never had before, and something I was convinced didn’t actually happen outside of Hollywood.
It was like a welling up in my chest. An explosion deep inside me, somewhere I never knew existed. As S’s hand stroked my back, something in me threw out this emotion, daring me to feel it. For the first time in my life, I let the emotion in. I let myself feel something otherwordly for somebody else. I refused to doubt it; and finally spoke my feelings out loud after months of keeping my mouth shut for fear of rejection.
“This may be soft as hell, but you’re the one person I can see spending the rest of my life with. Who I’d want to spend the rest of my life with”.
S settled his head on my shoulder, and I could feel his smile against my skin as he spoke to me:
“You’ll just have to wait ’til I ask you formally, then”.
- My Progress 3 (backwards222.com)
- Pfizer halts late-stage study into new Lyrica use (sfgate.com)
- wellness conclusion (mbhealthystudents.wordpress.com)
- Sleeping Beauty (backwards222.com)
- Fibro Fog (the brain stealing part of Fibromyalgia) (dailylifewithfibromyalgia.com)
- Sir Terry Pratchett (judysp1.wordpress.com)
- The wonderful world of Terry Pratchett (judysp1.wordpress.com)