Relieved, Resilient
Okay, pain, but... oddly, no serious tension. Um. Strange feeling. What is this?
gwynethfar gave me better words: "Wow, so you were actually able to, for lack of a better word, unclench everything that was involuntarily tensed?"
Yes, that. Still going. What the hell? What? What? What's this, what's this? cried Jack.
When you live your entire life with muscles that are involuntarily clenched, tensed, stiff, rigid, tight, sore, spastic, weak, damaged, abnormal... and then to have them release and loosen and smooth out and stay that way without pills -- without any pills -- it's something. It's... I'm not celebrating, but I am... well, parts of me are in pure awe, parts are stunned silent, parts are leaping around whooping wildly.
I imagine that tomorrow, when, I wake up, it will all be back to normal. You know, my kind of normal. The normal I have always lived. These things do not last. There is no cure. This is cerebral palsy. There is no cure. There is only short term relief. And this is also fibromyalgia. We know the hell of that, and we know the joy that relief can bring.
Already, I can feel my normal starting to creep back into me, starting with my left arm and leg.
But for a nice while, I was a different kind of normal. It was lovely, truly and fully.
So, I am relieved.
That is all I can be.
And now, part of me is sad. But resilient.
Rah Rah. Hah Hah.
gwynethfar gave me better words: "Wow, so you were actually able to, for lack of a better word, unclench everything that was involuntarily tensed?"
Yes, that. Still going. What the hell? What? What? What's this, what's this? cried Jack.
When you live your entire life with muscles that are involuntarily clenched, tensed, stiff, rigid, tight, sore, spastic, weak, damaged, abnormal... and then to have them release and loosen and smooth out and stay that way without pills -- without any pills -- it's something. It's... I'm not celebrating, but I am... well, parts of me are in pure awe, parts are stunned silent, parts are leaping around whooping wildly.
I imagine that tomorrow, when, I wake up, it will all be back to normal. You know, my kind of normal. The normal I have always lived. These things do not last. There is no cure. This is cerebral palsy. There is no cure. There is only short term relief. And this is also fibromyalgia. We know the hell of that, and we know the joy that relief can bring.
Already, I can feel my normal starting to creep back into me, starting with my left arm and leg.
But for a nice while, I was a different kind of normal. It was lovely, truly and fully.
So, I am relieved.
That is all I can be.
And now, part of me is sad. But resilient.
Rah Rah. Hah Hah.