I am not alone…

Tonight the wind is whipping about outside, howling… alerting me to the wintry storm that is headed my way.  Night has come and the wind keeps bumping up against my windows, reminding me of its presence.  I cannot see my wonderful view tonight for mother nature has obscured it from my sight.  Freezing rain clings to the window panels allowing me just a glimpse of what lays beyond the glass.   The long lines of dripped, frozen rain, and the thousands of bubbled, frozen, droplets are scattered everywhere creating a mosaic of light and dark that glimmers against the night.  The marbled window panes keep me from connecting with the world outside, while at the same time, keeping me ensconced within my four walls.   The mood outside, amazingly enough, mirrors the mood within me today.

I am now on my third day of the dreaded 10 day.  My sore throat is better, although returning often to remind that I am not quite myself, yet.  At times, my raspy voice reminds me of an actor I love, but I am unable to search out her name in my mind, as the fatigue has woven its way into my brain, leaving me searching and searching, for what I cannot recall.

My lymph nodes, while less tender today, still throb to remind me to rest.  My pain levels have increased dramatically as a result of the CFIDS now triggering the FMS.  Although, the Phenocane does a really good job controlling my pain, I have repeatedly forgotten to take it today as the fatigue continues to keep me bed bound.

Taking the dogs out today was more challenging then I thought.  Upon our return from their potty break, I was breathing and panting as if I had run the Boston Marathon.  I remember standing there, thinking,

Okay.  This could be a consequence of the extra 80 pounds I am carrying.

But I know that isn’t the only reason that I get so easily winded at the slightest exertion.  It is just another reminder of the havoc this invisible illness wreaks on my body.

There is a sadness that is penetrating deep within, even beyond the boundaries of fatigue.  Similar to the marbleized window panes, the illness has created a boundary between my energy and my body, thus, leaving everything in a de-pressed state.  I have often wondered if this is my body’s way of of letting me know it is time to rest, or perhaps, it is my body’s way of forcing me to slow down.  Either way, I have come to understand that this de-pressed state is not one of a mental disorder, but of one in which there is not enough energy for all my organs to function.  Thus my emotions and my brain as the last to be fed the life-giving energy they need.

Far back in the deep recess of my mind, I hear a small voice.  It reminds me that there are new mercies in the morning and that this is but a small part of this journey I am on.  If I will just hang on to that which enables me to go forward, tomorrow may be my better day.

Again I hear that small voice.  It tells me I am not alone.  There are two sets of footprints in the sand.  When the road gets too hard, and I can no longer push forward, there is one beside me, who will carry me, until I am able to get back on the path.

He understands the bubbling emotions that are rushing to the surface even now.  With them come rivers of tears – reflections of the burden I carry as I go forward and endure the fury of this illness.

Just below the surface of conflicting emotions that threaten to overtake me, and the multiple symptoms that demand my attention, there is a peace that invades every part of me.  Even in the midst of total chaos, I know and sense that peace.  It permeates all of me, reminding, yet again, that I do not take this journey alone.

Footprints at Unchained Life.

Determined to continue forward,