Day 1, Part 1
I have been struggling for several days. I grew up getting sick on a monthly basis, had improvements to my health into my late teens and early adulthood, but then got Long Covid. I’m used to just saying “I’m sick” but it can mean many different things at different times. I’m writing my experience embodying my symptoms of chronic illness and chronic pain over several days, and it has become a resourceful journey.
I have had internal tremors and vibration through my body for several days now. It started with recurring fevers at my worst with Long Covid, but when the fevers went away the shaking and vibration did not. More recently it did seem to subside for many months, but it has now returned. I got sick with an actual illness about a month ago, and there has been extra stress in my life, so some factor has led to more shaking again in addition to body aches, sleeping longer hours, a sore throat that comes and goes, and fatigue in between.
I feel tears behind my eyes just at the thought of beginning to write. An excitement follows because I don’t have a regular outlet for expressing or releasing sadness. In the past few days of being sick I have come to recognize and name a part of me that is completely resistant to feeling uncomfortable, and it has been such a beautiful experience to embrace this part of me, sit with it, and feel with much more capacity than usual all the discomfort that comes with it.
An image comes to mind where I’m picturing “me” along my back, and life meeting the front of me, presenting me with whatever I’m feeling that seems to be beyond my control. Between these two of me, whatever is arising is arising. I feel resistance as a tightly constricted area that goes through the middle to front of my head down through my neck to the top of my chest. Its shape is like a wet paper towel that has been squeezed in the palm of a hand. And when I bring my awareness to this shape, it’s almost like a layer of care can surround it, and it settles enough to stop trying to distract me with thoughts. There is also a sensation that stops, and I didn’t realize it was there until it stopped. It’s the sensation of screaming, but screaming without noise.
Directly below the resistance I feel sadness in the middle of my chest. As I feel the sadness I also feel a pulling in the middle of my upper back, and I feel like both are catching my breath. I can breathe through it without a problem, but it feels difficult and labored right where these sensations are. It feels exhausted. I become aware of pressure in my head on both sides. I get dizzy for a split second and then my eyes feel heavy and tired. A big breath comes and I feel almost as if my head just laid itself down into my chest, like a child into a parent’s chest, even though I’m sitting upright. My eyes glaze and get fixed on one spot like a very tired child might. I’m aware of pressure in the very center of my head and my right sinus cavity. My nose and throat feel pressure and are very uncomfortable. My eyes are blinking slowly.
I have just become aware that the shaking is not so present in my body now. I search for it and can’t find it. As I search for it I feel like an adult not wanting to wake a child and just letting it rest for a while. I’m very aware of the soreness in my throat. A sadness rises right below my heart. I can be with both experiences and I become curious about where the resisting part is located or coming from. I search gently where it usually is, almost like I don’t want to activate it, and I just go back to the sadness. It has a rising sensation. I feel the heaviness of my right shoulder and head and sinuses like I am carrying a heavy child that is sleeping or almost asleep, and it is easy to also feel this lump of sadness under my heart at the same time. I feel a very slight buzzing/shaking in my right leg, but it is not intimidating or overwhelming at all like it can often be. The lump is turning into a burning in my chest. A deep breath comes. Sadness appears behind my eyes. My right leg tightens and then releases again. My right shoulder and entire neck are feeling sore and pulled on, and the lump in my chest seems to have become just a little smoothed over bump in the dirt. I feel it start to burn again. My eyes feel sore with a lot of pressure around them, and the pressure extends to my nose. The vibration in my leg becomes stronger behind my calf. I become aware this is the same leg that my grandfather had sciatica issues. Pain in my neck becomes strong and sharp behind my ears on both sides. It connects with the pressure around my eyes that is now more painful and sharp than before. I become aware of my breath, which feels like it is carrying this heavy child that is slumped over.
I feel tired in my eyes and don’t want to continue. The little lump of dirt in my chest feels a burn. My head feels like it wants to sleep.
An affirmation comes to mind, encouraging me “sure, go ahead and sleep,” and that invitation is accepted, even though I’m still awake and typing. My mind can only make sense of this by thinking part of me can sleep while the rest of me continues observing. A breath takes itself. I am aware of the pressure and pain through my sinuses and nose and eyes and neck, but it’s like I’m observing it from beneath it now, from in my chest, looking up at it. I’m aware of some pain in my back. Aware of a breath. Aware of an emptied thought process compared to before. Aware of a different energy, slowed, calmer, less intense even though I’m still writing. A breath takes itself so slowly. It is comforting. I wish I could choose to be in this place with my breath always, as regularity in breathing has been one of my main challenges with long covid.
I observe this experience in me that I love it “down here” in my chest. That I don’t want to leave this area. Part of me doesn’t even understand what I’m talking about, but is not insisting to understand. Blinking slowly, breathing slowly. I just felt myself in my neck again. Aware of the tiredness in my eyes, the pain in the right side of my neck. I can accept being here, accompanying its experience. A bigger breath comes, a sadness is in my eyes. A heaviness is present in my right eye and neck. I become aware of pain in my chest from the middle of my back toward my right side. Breaths are breathing through the awareness of this pain. Aware of the achiness in my neck and throat. Breathing continues and feels so heavy, like it’s hard to lift my chest to accommodate the air coming in. My mind wants to explain this with the child concept but something in me doesn't rise up to meet the thought, and it passes.