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Health | Disability | Poverty
Zip Ties Are Keeping My Bed Together
I picture the inside of my brain the same way
I’m falling again.
The ravenous ground trembles beneath my bed, ready to swallow my exhausted body and bury my bones among the worms. This is it. Death is coming for me. It has been for years, and sometimes I’m ready to embrace my expiration date.
My breath comes in quick spurts like I’m inflating an invisible balloon, and I grip the side of the bed tightly to ground myself. I hate this feeling.
I assume I’m imagining the movement under me. I’ve lived with chronic dizziness for years, and a falling sensation is one of my symptoms. On my worst days, walls tilt and ceilings swirl, transforming relaxing activities like sleep into terrifying spins on my brain’s merry-go-round.
Some days are easier, thankfully. On days when I feel okay, an invisible force pushes me as I walk, shoves me out of chairs, or throws me across the room. These symptoms, while inconvenient and scary, are brief. Sometimes I feel like I’m falling forward or backward, but I’m not moving. When I actually do move, I feel normal.
My dysfunctional vestibular system delivers weird sensations daily, often with no warning. It’s unfair for someone who hates surprises, but like an overstimulated toddler, my peripheral nervous system does what it wants.
That’s what’s happening tonight, I believe. I cry as I sink into the bed, praying gravity will stop sucking me into the floor soon. I’m sick of feeling uncomfortable in my own body. I’m tired of my brain ignoring my constant pleas for help. I’d eat dog poop daily for the rest of my life if it would make my symptoms disappear.
Many people don’t understand the desperation chronic illness can trigger. I wish I didn’t understand.
My body is in danger, at least that’s what my vestibular system says. I picture my proprioceptors sending mismatched signals back and forth, each message garbled like a phone cutting out during a drive through the country.
You’re falling off the bed. Wait, no you’re not. Or are you? We aren’t sure. That’s a lie — you are falling. TIME TO PANIC. You are dying…
