Today I Felt Worse Than Usual (Or, the Things I'll Never Say)


I’m sorry if I was quieter than usual today.

It’s not because you did anything wrong, or that I don’t want to be with you…

although that may be hard to believe in this moment.

I’m sorry.

It’s because today I felt worse than usual.

It’s because what felt like sharp and thick needle ends were jabbing up through my armpits.

Head heavy with the dull ache of disappointment.

Not another day like this, please.

I was quiet because my hip feels the same shooting sharpness right through it.

My arches are spasming,

my body is cold, but feels hot to the touch.

I’m tired

and itchy… everywhere.

It’s a nerve thing. A brain-processing thing. A fibromyalgia thing.

And it sucks. I don’t get to say that a lot, because who wants to sound like they’re complaining about something they and everyone else can do very little about? Who wants to remind other people they are sick?

Sometimes it’s obvious, other times it’s not. For me, mostly it’s not.

I’ve perfected that pained smile.

But today, today I think it was obvious.

My pink bra was a chamber warden inflicting stabbing pains like barbed-wire grabbing onto the skin and sinking in.

Pressure.

Weighing in on my small and inflamed chest walls, ribs tightening around my lungs.

My armpits won’t stop itching.

Or my scalp.

Or the bottoms of my feet.

I have needly pains and aches and nausea.

But it’s the bra that makes me go silent.

Today.

Today I felt worse than usual.

I’m sorry I was so quiet.


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