Dead tired


A woman who suffers from a chronic illness or disability often finds herself at the end of "normals'" ideas of being tired. We are often looked at with contempt for being so tired that we can't perform our daily duties properly. Or that we have to go to bed early, rise late, or cancel social engagements at the last minute. We are not lazy. 

Before Corona, we were regarded with suspicion when we couldn't make it to church regularly and people harshly judged our spiritual health, deeming us backslidden.  Emotional and spiritual hurt exacerbates our ill state. We feel worse and they lack compassion.

Often we have to cancel doctors' appointments because we are too sick to get there. We find we can't drive and even if we could, we haven't got the strength to even get washed and dressed. It is not unheard of that some of us have crumpled in the shower, unable to get out and totally winded...

Our "tired" goes far beyond a sleepiness or drowsy feeling. We are so fatigued that breathing is too much effort and not for the first time we are grateful it's automatic.

Furthermore, our "tired" is not helped by a nanna nap or even 9 hours of sleep.  We fight our illness and pain even in our dreams and wake up unrefreshed and have to face another day when we haven't recuperated from the day before. We simply have run out of spoons.

"Tired" is overused and doesn't come close to the bone sucking quagmire of desperate fatigue we chronically ill people find ourselves sinking into constantly.  To have "normals" flippantly say, "Me too!" when we tell them we are tired invalidates us and makes us long for their brand of tiredness that can be restored through a good sleep.

We cannot even enjoy a shower or bath to help us sleep as the effort it takes to do this not only drains us of whatever energy we can find, but does not always bring a restorative sleep. Just muscle pain.

Such is my own pain on going to bed that I find I cannot place my arms anywhere comfortable. My fibromyalgia and polymyalgia rheumatica make it impossible to raise my arms upwards and extending them hurts my muscles and tendons. So I go to sleep with my arms folded on my chest.

I indeed look like a cadaver which has been laid out and testifies somewhat to the feeling of being dead in my tracks.  Because that's the type of exhaustion we face every day: we truly feel dead tired.


© Glenys Robyn Hicks


Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Psalm 71:9

4 comments:

  1. Excellent verse for those of us reaching what is truly considered “aged” and really feeling it. This morning a couple of people at church asked me how I was, and didn’t buy the “We’re doing okay.” Right now I’m not certain what is wrong - couple of Doctor appointments coming up should give me a clue. Your writings always give me hope and a lift. Beautiful verse!

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    1. Phyllis, I will pray that you get the answers and treatment you need to feel on top of things again. Thank you for your encouraging words.

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  2. OH this is so true. I cannot recall ever not being exhausted. I know there was a time when I wasn't but this is all I know now. I am on oxygen now hoping it helps my hypoxemia...which makes one exhausted too. Oh Lord please come take us home! Kelly Thompson

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  3. Oh I hear ya, Kelly! I do remember with sadness how Chris and I worked together 16 hours a day most days in our courier business and did furniture removals on the weekend. Now I wouldn't be able to lift a six pack of Reflex copy paper, let alone push a pallet forward in the van for Chris.... I will pray the oxygen helps your hypoxemia.

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Thank you for visiting with me today. I love to hear from you. I may not always be able to reply right away, but I will respond to every comment you leave. Blessings and comfort, Glenys