In polite conversation I refer to them as 'shaking.' Others refer to them as 'tremors.' Truthfully they are just a pain in the ass. One which turns me into a grouchy hermit unwilling to interact with the world.
My shaking hands are my Achilles heel in this chronic illness. Take away my ability to walk, give me pain, make me look far to sickly, but please let my hands remain perfectly steady. My hands are what makes me the person I am.
I need them to paint, to create, to give life to the hope I hold for a healthier day. When I have a day like yesterday I cannot talk about things I've learned or trips to plan. My whole purpose is in holding together myself for the sake of everyone around me.
What else could I possibly do? Yesterday's hands were shaking so badly I could not feed myself. My boyfriend cut up the roast and finally ended up getting me a spoon when I kept dropping my fork. I cringed for myself when I kept struggling to get the food where I wanted it to go. The whole business embarrassed me to no end. No matter how much people argue otherwise, I will always be embarrassed at such a weakness.
After spilling hot tea on myself I gave up on eating. I was still hungry but the simple act of eating was just to much. Most people would cry. I think I cannot. Life's not fair. My tears will not change that and neither will feeling sorry for myself.
Today I've decided to pull myself out of my shaky 'funk' and get back to writing. So here I am. Blogging and living. Perhaps not the steady life most of the world has but still doing my best to live with what I've been given and be happy doing it.
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