Bedrest & Hope

I’ve spent the last week almost entirely in bed.

Seven days of excruciating, relentless pain — the kind that takes everything from you: your energy, your independence, your ability to do even the simplest things.

This flare didn’t come out of nowhere. It was triggered by an unpleasant argument that took place in my kitchen about a week ago. Someone who loves me — and genuinely wants the best for me — engaged me in a full-blown, screaming argument. They knew that kind of emotional explosion would inevitably throw me into a flare.

But for some people, the most important thing is being “right,” no matter the cost.

And I’m the one who has to sit with the aftermath. The aftermath that, for me, meant complete physical collapse.

It debilitated me completely. It just makes me sit back and think… how glad I am that you got to be “right”… and if you read this blog, ever.. doubt you do.. I hope it was worth it. What I had to go through all week, intense, severe, debilitating pain 24 hours a day… I’m so glad it was worth it to you.

Since that day, my body has been locked in survival mode. Every system overwhelmed. Every nerve on fire. But through all of it, David has been by my side — helping in ways that go far beyond the physical.

He’s been gently pulling me back into parasympathetic flooding —

helping me shift, even if only briefly, out of fight-or-flight mode and into a state where my body can breathe, soften, and start to heal.

Through simple things: calming presence, soft touches, steady care.

In moments when my body forgot how to feel safe, he became a living reminder that safety is still possible.

This past week, basic things have felt almost impossible.

I’ve only been able to shower twice.

Even brushing my teeth has been a major challenge.

The pain has been so severe that even small movements felt like battles I wasn’t equipped to fight.

But there have been small mercies, too.

I was gifted an adjustable bed when I moved into this apartment— something I never knew could make such a difference. It’s allowed me to sit up, lay back, adjust my position when I needed to — offering little islands of relief in a sea of hurt.

That bed became my sanctuary this week.

And even though my body has been still, my mind and spirit haven’t stopped reaching.

I enrolled in an AI course to learn about different apps — tiny steps toward future dreams.

I’ve been watching videos on enlightenment, connecting to the higher self, and finding inner peace.

Because even when the body is broken, the soul can keep growing.

And today…

Today there’s hope.

David is taking me to see Dr. Sammi.

We’re doing a nerve block — the treatment that can stop this flare, interrupt the cycle of suffering, and help my body find its way back to something close to peace. I do this every 11 days and have since November of 2021.

I’m exhausted. But mostly, I’m grateful. Grateful for the people who have stood beside me — especially David, who has quietly carried the weight I couldn’t.

Pain tried to take this week from me.

And yes, it took a lot. But it didn’t take everything.

There’s still hope here.

There’s still art.

There’s still the quiet, stubborn heartbeat of a life that refuses to give up.

If you’re fighting your own battles right now, please know this:

You are not alone.

You are stronger than you know.

And better days — better moments — are coming.

🕊️

With love,

Dana & Nicky