It's 1 a.m., and I’m here in bed, awake, and typing. Simply because I don’t know what else to do. I’m gasping for breath. Each single complete breathing is painful and strained than the previous. My chest is getting tighter. It's not cooperating as it was created to cooperate. I have been/still am desperately trying to force myself to sleep for the last two hours, hoping that drifting off to the slumber land would let my body forget this struggle, and remind my lungs how to properly function. Succeess? Little to no success. Sleep has abandoned me. I try to catch it, but the more closer I get, the far it drifts away from me. Eloi!
I have opened my window. The air outside is cold, but what other option do I have? I am hoping it will easen my chest. Maybe the night would cradle me into calmness and sleep. I keep listening to the soft hum of the fan. The aeroplanes keep making their noise from outside which is quite uncomfortable but that's absolutely out of my control. I long for any lullaby that could soothe me to sleep but nothing seems to get close to doing that. Instead, the awareness of every strained inhale and exhale is so loud. Oh, how shallow my inhalation and exhalation is.
I’ve tried stripping down some heavy clothing, letting my skin meet the less and lighter covering more freely, hoping comfort would find me in the warmth of minimal fabric. But lo! the feeling is still the same. The awareness is amplyfying. The chest is still tight. And I, I am still lying awake in the dark. My heart is beating a little heavier. I guess because of the helplessness and fear of the uncertain.
I am hear thinking about how ordinary this would seem to someone who’s never known it. Who has never really felt and experienced this. How can I explain this to someone in Ontario or Detroit who just closed their eyes at 10:00pm and his/her lungs are doing best what they always do? His/her heart just beating normally. To someone in Nairobi, Kenya or Mumbai, India whom has just woken up to a fresh new day and is going through his/her daily adventures? Their lungs automatically expanding and contracting.
I am painfully writing this for the people who have never felt it. And for those who have that their struggle is shared with others across the globe. Does this ever make one feel better? That you share in something that inflict pain, discomfort, fear, and all the bad emotions in the world? I don't have the right words to explain this feeling or rather struggle but it is surely different. Not the amazing different. The unpleasant different that no one with a sane mind wants to be associated with.
Has your own body ever felt so unfamiliar yet so familiar? I feel this simultaneously as I continue jotting this down. I have shed a tear or two but of what importance are they?
I lie here. I am hoping because HOPE is the only anchor I can hold onto till the sun comes out. I am typing so that maybe my words can carry a piece of this experience to someone else. Maybe it’s a way to feel less alone and forget about the strain for a second. I am reminding myself and anyone reading that even in the middle of this gasping for air, this strain, I am still breathing. Not to lie, it's hard.
Maybe soon, in this my very room, I’ll close my eyes unconsciously close my eyes. Not sure what time, but maybe I will be taken away with sleep since I am getting super exhausted. (So funny how the things we need most, fly away when we desperately need them). And maybe, just maybe, when I wake, I’ll remember what it feels like to breathe normally again. And then will I bear the gratitude of normal breathing. Maybe a little longer before it's robbed away from me again.
It's easy to forget how ordinary it feels to inhale and exhale without effort until the day it's no longer easy. I understand that since on normal days I don't even take time to listen to my breathing. And therefore in regards to this, my few words(if they will ever mean something to you, my esteemed reader) will be: hold onto every effortless sleep. Every quiet and peaceful night. Every act of love and care. Every talk with a friend. Every kind word from someone. Every smile. Every positive vibe. Even the ability to swallow water and many other simple things that we so much think we own that I don't have the luxury of time and energy to type down. I say AGAIN, breathing, normal breathing, air in and out without struggle, is such a precious and beautiful gift. Cherish it while you can.
I truly hope this messy piece of writing will carry meaning beyond this late night, beyond this scary moment, and beyond me. With shaky hands, I bring these words out to you tonight: Hold onto all moments, people,the small and big things, and life processes with all your heart.
Breathing through it all,
Mwango.
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