I start talking to my wonderful husband, I look at him and he looks at me, the words coming out of my mouth start getting slower and slower then just stop, I stare at the floor. The word has gone, they’ve all gone! My brain and tongue just aren’t in sync any more.
I get frustrated, there are other random words but not the ones that I want to say. In frustration I shout them. I want to cry, I can’t even express what I want to say in words, the words that I need to express myself or finish whatever sentence I was in the middle of saying, are gone.
I pick up the empty mug that’s on the coffee table beside me and I launch it across the room in temper, throwing it hard against the floor. These days the strength that I have in my hands is pathetic, I can’t even open a bottle top by myself. I have to watch my hand pick up the mug, I feel the smooth pottery texture against the palm of my hand and it feels like white-hot barbed wire pressing deep into my hand. It hurts like I’m being tortured. My hand feels twice the size that it looks and the force that I put into my hand to throw the mug, hurts so much that I sincerely want to slice my hand off.
The words are still gone, my husband shakes his head, having seen this frustration all too many times before. I break down in tears and shake violently as the tears escape me. The mug lies on the floor in multiple pieces, broken and irreparable – just how I feel. He wants to hold me, to comfort me, kiss my forehead and tell me it all ok…but he can’t, because to touch me is to inflict incomprehensible and indescribable, physical pain upon me.