Sing us a song of softness cradling our head molded in shreds who has delivered us who? now that the neck pain is dead?
I named my new pillow Nagaina, the female cobra from Rikki Tiki Tavi, because her long supple noodle shape is reminiscent of a snake and I’ve always liked the name.
In a desperate search for comfort born of the seasonal shift induced fibro flare up of the past two weeks I purchased the Milliard U Shaped Total Body Support Pillow to see if maybe some excessive pillow support could put an end to weeks of sleepless tossing and turning and waking with completely stiff neck and shoulders.
It did. I love her. I wanted to live in a world that consists of only shredded memory foam noodles.
My smallest dog became immediately obsessed with her as well and has claimed her “left” leg as her own, curling up on it and against whatever supporting body part of mine she needs at the time to stay on said cozy surface.
I’m happy to say actual sleep was accomplished last night and now, I’m off to try and get some more.
Oh yes, I am also turning many of these posts into podcasts, a link to which is available in the side column. Feel free to visit if you would like to be lulled into … something… by the dulcet tones of my voice.
It feels a little redundant to say life has been difficult lately. Is there anyone I know who couldn’t say that? Everything is turned upside down by the pandemic and it feels as though the whole world is holding its breath and hoping the great orange asshat doesn’t blow us all up by inadvertently sitting on the big red button. Still, life has been difficult lately.
I’ve been struggling. Really struggling. The kind of struggling no amount of Pollyanna-ing can get you out of. The kind you just have to sit around with until you acknowledge it enough you can move on.
I’ve been in a bit of a funk, one might say.
Then my husband gave me a box from my mother in law.
I knew what was in the box, it was a quilt. She makes these lovely quilts for people who are struggling and I love seeing her quilts come through the house as we help her spread her love around the world. It was strange that he would bring one upstairs but ok, cool. I knew it wasn’t for me because she has already given me an absolutely stunning comfort quilt that I curl up under all the time. While I would cheerfully hoard all the quilts in the world I try not to be greedy. I know how much work they are to make and I know how many people could use cheering up.
His face was weird. He was up to something.
I opened the box. There was indeed a quilt in it. I said something like “Who’s it for?” and he answered something like “It’s for you.” I told him I already had a comfort quilt and it couldn’t be for me. He told me it wasn’t a comfort quilt.
And that’s when I pulled out the lovely fleece backed quilt, saw the messages and signatures from my family and friends, and promptly scared the life out of my husband by bursting into tears and burying my face in his chest.
I cried for a while. Kind of a long while.
You see, there were several things going on in my non-verbal head at that moment. One was the recognition of the sheer amount of effort that had gone in to such a gift along side a feeling that I didn’t deserve it. Another was a sense of just how lonely I’d been feeling. Despite speaking up on Facebook or here now and then I keep my pain pretty private. I don’t want to intrude, you see. Also, I feel like there’s nothing new to talk about, that it’s boring, that it makes people uncomfortable, etc. So I’d been carrying it around with me all day every day and mostly ignoring it, all the while feeling more and more isolated by it.
And here was a lovely, soft, amazing quilt with loving messages from the very people I’d been feeling isolated from.
“You are loved. “
“I know it’s hard”
“Thinking about you.”
Messages of love, messages of hope, messages of humor. All sewn together by a woman who loves me so much she went to this much effort, herded all the cats, to get me a tangible example of exactly how alone I am not.
I’m a don’t be nice to me or I’ll cry kind of person. This was so far beyond nice.
When I finally stopped bawling in general I began reading the love notes and began bawling specifically until I had read each and every one. Then I called my mother-in-law and cried on the phone with her for a while as I tried to thank her and accurately express my messy morass of feelings. I’m pretty sure “I have all the feels” was as close as I got.
Then I thanked everyone on Facebook and curled up under my amazing new quilt and took the first successful nap I have taken in ages.
Life is still difficult. I still really struggle. Now, however, instead of feeling isolated and sad when I struggle, I curl up underneath all the love wrapped up in this amazing gift and I remember; I am not alone.
Managing life with chronic illness requires savvy spoons