There is no escape

Discussion in 'Fibromyalgia Main Forum' started by LiteraryPumpkin, Dec 4, 2002.

  1. LiteraryPumpkin

    LiteraryPumpkin New Member

    I have been in pain all my life. I was born with it. But, you know, pain is strange. We are all different and we are all different at various times in our lives.

    I can remember being in pain and having a fantasy where I went into my bedroom, put sad music in the CD, turned off the lights and drank myself senseless as I watched it rain outside my window. Alas, I wouldn't drink myself senseless and I suspect it wouldn't work anyway.

    Ahhhhh, escapism. Dreams are such strange and funny things.

    My invisible friend ... Here I am .. I'm there in your computer screen and you are in mine. When we touch, if we dare touch, it is through our keyboards. I need you my friend. Oh, I know that logic would suggest that we don't know each other and therefore cannot be friends. Not true! We share an ethereal and unbreakable bond called human suffering.

    I want to tell you what makes me cry. Will you listen?

    I cried when I was 19 and Clara Gail looked at me with those big beautiful brown eyes and said, "I don't love you any more." Oh, you would have never known anything had happened for more than an hour. Then, in a crowded room, full of laughter and animated conversation, my heart broke. It broke into a million pieces. I cried like a little child and was powerless to stop it.

    I cried last year when, in an unexpected moment, I realized that all of the dreams of my youth were gone. That they could never live in my heart again. Forever too late. Yes, my friend, I needed you that day.

    I cried last week when I realized that I was the luckiest guy who ever lived. Something changed inside of me. I wish that you had been there and that I could have shared it with you.

    Can I tell you what makes me laugh?

    I know it's bad form, but I laugh at my own stories (many of which you have not seen). I have awakened my wife dozens of times with silly laughter as I lay in bed and thought of a new paragraph.

    I want to share my life with someone who understands someone like me, a sufferer. Someone who, like me, sometimes feels that their illness has isolated them, made them so incredibly alone.

    I want to talk to somebody, who like me, is frightened. Frightened by the ferocity of their life. Who, like me, sometimes trembles and tries to hide it.

    You know what I think? I think that life will give us many opportunities to run away, but that we can never escape ourselves. Since it seems to be our destiny to suffer and that there is no escape, will you stand with me? Together, we are greater than ourselves, alone.

    I want to tell you what makes me love.

    A long time ago, there was a little girl. She was a beautiful little girl, only, her beauty was a curse. One night, as she lay in her bed in a drafty old farmhouse she prayed. Only children can pray like she did, so earnestly.

    "Please God! Help me. He's coming. Make him go back down the hall. Please God!"

    How can a father injure his child so? My God, was he never a child himself? Didn't his father chase away the monsters from under his bed? Didn't he feel that warm, secure feeling in the arms of his father? Oh, my friends, I am crying as I type this. It is so unfair! Unfair that little children can be hurt so terribly.

    Well, a little time passed. It was a beautiful, windswept summer day on the Caprock. The little girl walked in a cotton field and she prayed.

    Night came again as it always does. There were foot steps in the hall again. The little girl whimpered, "Oh no! He's coming!" Poor little girl, her eyes were full of tears.
    I reached out and took that precious angel into my arms and said, "It's alright. I won't let anyone hurt you. It's OK now."

    The little girl said to me, "I know you. You are the one I asked God to send to me. You are the one that He promised. Someone to love me."

    She said this, but we had never seen each other before . I could not understand.

    Years pass. That night became just a memory. I gained no new understanding of what she said to me.

    Not long ago, I spoke to that little girl and looked into her grown up eyes. She said to me, "I recognized you. You are the one that God promised to send. You are the one He sent to love me."

    I could not understand.

    Last week, I was driving down a busy freeway in Dallas and it came to me. I understood. After all these years, I understood.

    When you reach out to someone who needs you to hold them, to help them, to protect them .... you are LOVING them. That is LOVE in it's most elegant form. It is so simple, my invisible friend.

    Inside of me, there lives a 12 year old boy. He is terrified and suffering. He is stricken by a hideous disease called OCD. He is me. I cannot help him. I can't. Will you reach out for him? Will you hold him in your arms and tell him that everything will be OK. Will you promise him that you won't let anything hurt him? Can you? Could you? I think you can.

    Your heart and tender feelings will have to substitute as arms, but there's nothing wrong with that. Your words will have to be your presence.

    I'm the luckiest guy in the world because God put me in the right place and time to help a beautiful little girl. I will be forever grateful. Now, I am humbly before you, offering you the same opportunity. Different story? Impossible task? Then, my friend, you don't understand yet. I know the feeling.

    We also can never escape the truth. It's just very hard to see sometimes.
    [This Message was Edited on 12/04/2002]
    [This Message was Edited on 12/04/2002]
  2. LiteraryPumpkin

    LiteraryPumpkin New Member

    I have been in pain all my life. I was born with it. But, you know, pain is strange. We are all different and we are all different at various times in our lives.

    I can remember being in pain and having a fantasy where I went into my bedroom, put sad music in the CD, turned off the lights and drank myself senseless as I watched it rain outside my window. Alas, I wouldn't drink myself senseless and I suspect it wouldn't work anyway.

    Ahhhhh, escapism. Dreams are such strange and funny things.

    My invisible friend ... Here I am .. I'm there in your computer screen and you are in mine. When we touch, if we dare touch, it is through our keyboards. I need you my friend. Oh, I know that logic would suggest that we don't know each other and therefore cannot be friends. Not true! We share an ethereal and unbreakable bond called human suffering.

    I want to tell you what makes me cry. Will you listen?

    I cried when I was 19 and Clara Gail looked at me with those big beautiful brown eyes and said, "I don't love you any more." Oh, you would have never known anything had happened for more than an hour. Then, in a crowded room, full of laughter and animated conversation, my heart broke. It broke into a million pieces. I cried like a little child and was powerless to stop it.

    I cried last year when, in an unexpected moment, I realized that all of the dreams of my youth were gone. That they could never live in my heart again. Forever too late. Yes, my friend, I needed you that day.

    I cried last week when I realized that I was the luckiest guy who ever lived. Something changed inside of me. I wish that you had been there and that I could have shared it with you.

    Can I tell you what makes me laugh?

    I know it's bad form, but I laugh at my own stories (many of which you have not seen). I have awakened my wife dozens of times with silly laughter as I lay in bed and thought of a new paragraph.

    I want to share my life with someone who understands someone like me, a sufferer. Someone who, like me, sometimes feels that their illness has isolated them, made them so incredibly alone.

    I want to talk to somebody, who like me, is frightened. Frightened by the ferocity of their life. Who, like me, sometimes trembles and tries to hide it.

    You know what I think? I think that life will give us many opportunities to run away, but that we can never escape ourselves. Since it seems to be our destiny to suffer and that there is no escape, will you stand with me? Together, we are greater than ourselves, alone.

    I want to tell you what makes me love.

    A long time ago, there was a little girl. She was a beautiful little girl, only, her beauty was a curse. One night, as she lay in her bed in a drafty old farmhouse she prayed. Only children can pray like she did, so earnestly.

    "Please God! Help me. He's coming. Make him go back down the hall. Please God!"

    How can a father injure his child so? My God, was he never a child himself? Didn't his father chase away the monsters from under his bed? Didn't he feel that warm, secure feeling in the arms of his father? Oh, my friends, I am crying as I type this. It is so unfair! Unfair that little children can be hurt so terribly.

    Well, a little time passed. It was a beautiful, windswept summer day on the Caprock. The little girl walked in a cotton field and she prayed.

    Night came again as it always does. There were foot steps in the hall again. The little girl whimpered, "Oh no! He's coming!" Poor little girl, her eyes were full of tears.
    I reached out and took that precious angel into my arms and said, "It's alright. I won't let anyone hurt you. It's OK now."

    The little girl said to me, "I know you. You are the one I asked God to send to me. You are the one that He promised. Someone to love me."

    She said this, but we had never seen each other before . I could not understand.

    Years pass. That night became just a memory. I gained no new understanding of what she said to me.

    Not long ago, I spoke to that little girl and looked into her grown up eyes. She said to me, "I recognized you. You are the one that God promised to send. You are the one He sent to love me."

    I could not understand.

    Last week, I was driving down a busy freeway in Dallas and it came to me. I understood. After all these years, I understood.

    When you reach out to someone who needs you to hold them, to help them, to protect them .... you are LOVING them. That is LOVE in it's most elegant form. It is so simple, my invisible friend.

    Inside of me, there lives a 12 year old boy. He is terrified and suffering. He is stricken by a hideous disease called OCD. He is me. I cannot help him. I can't. Will you reach out for him? Will you hold him in your arms and tell him that everything will be OK. Will you promise him that you won't let anything hurt him? Can you? Could you? I think you can.

    Your heart and tender feelings will have to substitute as arms, but there's nothing wrong with that. Your words will have to be your presence.

    I'm the luckiest guy in the world because God put me in the right place and time to help a beautiful little girl. I will be forever grateful. Now, I am humbly before you, offering you the same opportunity. Different story? Impossible task? Then, my friend, you don't understand yet. I know the feeling.

    We also can never escape the truth. It's just very hard to see sometimes.
    [This Message was Edited on 12/04/2002]
    [This Message was Edited on 12/04/2002]
  3. kadywill

    kadywill New Member

    ~~~~~~~~~~~I am touched and in tears~~~~~~~~~~~
  4. kellym

    kellym New Member

    amazing...you are such a talented author...to be able to express those emotions in words...
  5. JaciBart

    JaciBart Member

    I can't even think of what to say to that, wow.


    Jaci
  6. LiteraryPumpkin

    LiteraryPumpkin New Member

    Yes, I am an author. But, this was 'shoot from the hip' and very emotional for me. Mixed tense and dangling participles were not factors.

    In addition, keeping the little girl's privacy and dignity intact was not easy.

    The last paragraph (not the tag sentence) was allegorical. I would not expect anyone to promise a child that nothing would ever hurt them again.

    Thank you for your response.

    Russell
  7. LiteraryPumpkin

    LiteraryPumpkin New Member

    Kadywill, Kwllym and Jaci

    Thank you so much.
  8. PaulMark

    PaulMark New Member

    Literary pumkin: I've never been able to put into words the fear i and most of us feel with these chronic illness, YOUr words touched my heart like only one other thing ever has, IT WAS recited by dr. james dobson focus on fam. tape of the book when GOD Doesn't make sense, i listen to it over and over, YOu have a gift of words indeed indeed

    you were not afraid to vent those emotions, most of men are raised to sukppress those emotions i live alone in KY l7 yrs. old daugt. lives with her mom 6 miles away and hardly ever comes, my sister calls me mentally ill, recently some friends of one of the chruches of chr. e mailed me and said they would pray for me but would not enable me by goign to the grocery etc, and heling me that way, I guess my sis has got to them, how do they expect me to do things,?? i cannot drive im mostly bedridden and in chronic pain 24/7 as many others are

    Would you tell me more if you care too only,

    paul mark
    paulstory@iolky.com

    god bless and what a moving moving oration
  9. PaulMark

    PaulMark New Member

    dear russell: i meant to ADD brain fog and pain setting in badly, on dobson's tape:

    it was letter he got from a father who had lost his little girl to a devasting and terrible illness, she was i think about l0 yrs. old, they had prayed and prayed for a child and GOd gave them one and then she got sicker and sicker never said what the ill . was but the letter recited by dr. dob. touches my heart, especailly having a daugt.

    the father finally came to terms that GOD took what he had given, he had given the father (accordign ot the father) l0 yrs of teaching him what love was all about he loved the child when he had to change her messy diapers at l0 yrs. of age even due to loss of motor controls, and many other problems

    paul mark
  10. LiteraryPumpkin

    LiteraryPumpkin New Member

    Paul, have faith my brother.

    Let me tell you that I had a dream some months ago. In it, I met 3 men: Me, Myself and I. I could not see them, but I knew that they walked beside me. Eventually, they said to me in unison: "Russell, we have something important to tell you." I was speechless, they were not. "God is proud of you Russell."

    Tears filled my eyes, but I kept walking. "Can you accept that Russell? You know, that the great and mighty God who built this world is proud of you?"

    I looked at my shoe tops and mumbled, "No." There was a long silence with only the sound of my footsteps.

    "You will, someday you will", I heard them say. Then, they were gone.

    Strange dream. Dreams are like that.

    Paul, I truly believe that God is proud of you my friend. You are carrying a very heavy load. You will never be admired by the masses. They will never build a statue in your honor. But, my friend, don't be sad. All these sad burdens that have been handed to you by capricious misfortune will someday be like jewels in your crown. And I will say, "I knew him once" and people will be impressed.

    My name is Russell Rankin. I'm a writer living in the Dallas area. I live with my wife of 27 years, my 84 year old father, my 34 year old daughter (my oldest) and six cats. I love music. I once played in a pretty popular Rock band. I'm always in terrible financial trouble (an undisciplined spender I am). I have FMS, CFS, OCD, IBS and degenerative bone disease of the spine. Other than that, I'm fine.

    Thank you for your reply my friend, talk to you soon I hope.

    Russell (LiteraryPumpkin)
  11. karen2002

    karen2002 New Member

    I lost a little girl, I left her years ago in the depths of a forest.

    Sitting secluded under the boughs of the hemlock tree, safely enshrouded by hugging greenery, she still spends her days. Sometimes she ventures out from beneath her hiding place, picking handfuls of wintergreens or choke cherries. She is sure they can sustain life, and there would be no reason to return home. On sunny, chilled, autumn days she climbs to the heights of spindly birch trees, until they can bear no more, and bend, sending her on an exhilerating ride back to earth. Dashing past the buzzing, white-washed beehives, ellicits giggles at the sense of her daring. Each evening as the sky turned to purple she use to apprehensively set off for home.

    I turned and waved goodbye to her in the forest when she was eleven, telling her she could remain a child, safe and protected there, forevermore. I took from her all the bad and only left her with the happy memories. Her shoulders were much to slight to carry such burdens.

    I just revisted her today, for the first time, due to your post, dear sir. She is safe and well. She tells me of a boy of 12, that now sits on the fern frond carpet, under the shielding boughs of the hemlock, eating wintergreens they have picked. Although she was hesitant to admit it, he is a far better swinger of birches.

    These two have no pain, there is no more terror and suffering. They say, visit often.

    Karen
    [This Message was Edited on 12/04/2002]
  12. Mikie

    Mikie Moderator

    I have not had an opportunity to welcome you to our board, so welcome aboard.

    We do try to keep this board only for medical type posts associated with our illnesses, but we have a Writers Forum where you are welcome to express yourself through your writing. Just click on the strip at the top of the page on "Message Boards." It will take you to all our boards, including the Writers Forum.

    Love, Mikie
  13. queenbee69

    queenbee69 New Member

    tissue right now. Very touching and beautifully done....queenbee
  14. nancyneptune

    nancyneptune New Member

    So lovely Russell. I'm crying now because I could have been that little girl you rescued. I've also been odd since I was born. In pain. Thank you for the beauty of your writing.

    Mikie, please lay off him.
  15. Scoobsmom

    Scoobsmom New Member

    For weeks now, I have struggled feeling anything but hurt, anger and lots of lonliness. I wonder everyday why God does not take away these feelings. Thank you for the insightful words. I have lost so many "people" in my life, and feel afraid that I too will lose my husband and my son, which makes me even more angry.. I do not feel the presence of God any longer, though I was filled with hope and faith what seems like only yesterday.. church sisters and brothers are no where to be found because of my constant moods and inablilty to share their "joy". This illness has robbed me of hope...but I desire to remain faithful...thank you for the words....
  16. LiteraryPumpkin

    LiteraryPumpkin New Member

    I saved your posting. It may take me a while to respond. You touched my heart girl.
  17. Sandyz

    Sandyz New Member

    That was absolutly beautiful and moving. This think we call
    fm has brought all you gifted people in my life and I am
    humbled by that and grateful for that!
  18. achy

    achy New Member

    May the warmth in your heart always flow and comfort others....And may the words of your soul always find it's way to paper.

    you have a wonderous gift, thank you for sharing it.

    Warm fuzzies
    Achy
  19. 1Writer

    1Writer New Member

    for your words...they reached out and touched my soul, for I, too, am a writer, musician and artist who suffers from CFS, IBS, Scoliosis, Thyroid Disease, asthma and other things, that somehow, right now, at this moment and time, seem to be forgotten...all because someone "invisible" touched me with their healing words. You are so very gifted...God has truly blessed you. I, too, feel blessed, even in my agony, to have found so many wonderful people here on this site that will share with me, laugh with me, listen to me, cry with me and then lift me up from my darkness and despair. You, sir, have done just that and "I" will forever be grateful. So, please continue to play your instrument of wisdom here, for there are many ears to hear.

    A new fan...1Writer


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