Heavy, so, so heavy. Bowling ball.
Keep your head up.
Pressure.
Numb, but not painless. This pain hurts enormously.
Excruciating. Debilitating.
Tight. Tense. Knotted.
Dizzy, Pounding, dull, deep, angry.
Zaps and shocks, or tingling worms on my skull.
Bricks tied to the base of my skull. Pulling. Cutting.
Life altering
My forehead is a constant blaring 911 signal that can't be answered.
For years and years.
Emergency.
My head and neck are in constant pain when I am not moving.
When I move, my head and my neck scream louder.
When I wake up, before I open my eyes, pain welcomes me.
Pain yells at me until I wake up in the middle of the night.
Pain won't wait in the other room.
Pain won't give up. Pain stalks me, chases me.
Pain is patient while it sits with me, ignored.
Sharon let's play. Let's not.
While I am rude to it, while I hate it. While I give it NOTHING. While I beat it up.
While I smile and laugh each day. While I cry- and then it hurts more.
Pain lies, cheats, destroys and steals. Pain is relentless. Pain plays dirty.
Hands on fire. Hands cold. Tingling, numb, sharp, spazzy and shooting.
Drop a bowl. Drop a fork.
Burning, tearing, ripping shoulders and shoulder blades.
Muscles like thick sore pulling tender, aching, hard, mad, dense rubber bands that endlessly try to hold my head up. Pulled past their extreme, but will never snap.
Spasms - rippling waves and rolls of thunder - all over, all day.
Don't look down. Don't look up. Don't look long.
Don't turn side to side.
Don't look back.
Don't bend your legs. Don't kneel.
Don't stress.
Don't lay on your stomach. Don't prop your elbows up to read.
Don't read.
Don't sit. Don't stand.
Don't recline. Don't lean forward.
Don't concentrate. Don't lift.
Don't use the stairs. Don't use the elevator.
Don't give up.
Don't forget.
Don't let it show.
Sharon Rose
"I was working too hard to be afraid."
- Cheryl Strayed, Wild
Photo of Cheryl Strayed with Monster, her backpack.
