#Chronic pain and relationships

[somethingnubian]

8 Ways to Strengthening Bonds of Love, and Resilience, with Fibromyalgia

Working together on these goals reinforces your sense of unity

By La Trecia Doyle-Thaxton Keywords: Fibromyalgia, Relationship challenges, Empathy in relationships, Fibromyalgia support, Couples and fibromyalgia, Communication in relationships, Fibromyalgia education, Self-care for couples, Quality time for couples, Supportive network, Fibromyalgia support groups, Couples’ intimacy, Common goals for couples, Coping with chronic illness, Relationship…

[idyllicwillowtree]

How Much Love

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader / gn!reader; angst with fluffy ending, hurt/comfort, established relationship

Summary: Steve has a migraine attack but he’s too stubborn to take care of himself.

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: one curse word, non-descriptive vomiting, migraine symptoms, chronic pain, crying, one use of Y/N, dumb joke, p*rn reference?

Author’s note: I know the migraine thing has been overdone but idc :) I'm pretty sure this could be read as gender neutral but you can lmk if that's not the case

Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

Steve knew he shouldn’t have gone to work. The second his eyes opened he knew it was going to be a rough day. The persistent throbbing on the left side of his face and the twist of nausea in his stomach would be enough to convince anyone else that they should take it easy.

Not for Steve though.

He’s done this dance before. The battle in his mind of not wanting to waste one of his precious sick days or if he should stay home and take care of himself so he can make it through the next day. He usually sucked it up and went with the former.

I’ve had worse before, he’d rationalize to himself. I can handle it.

His true motivation for leaving the comfort and warmth of his bed was the date he had planned for you two. Steve went all out with flowers, chocolates, dinner reservation at Enzo’s, and concluding the night snuggled up on his couch watching a rented movie.  

But the customers kept coming. Steve could've sworn they were all there, not to rent a movie, but to exacerbate his migraine attack. Tired mothers bringing in their screaming babies, a group of smelly teenagers, and a boisterous man who was trying to convince Robin that The Godfather was the greatest movie ever made. That’s not even mentioning the flickering fluorescent lights that Keith refuses to change the bulbs in.

Robin began to take notice once Steve kept bumping into the shelves as he put away tapes around the store. She watched as he mustered up enough strength to pick up a stack of returned tapes and mindlessly put The Muppet Babies in the Horror section and something called I Dream of Weenie in the kids section.

  By 4:30, he was absolutely fried.

“Go home, dingus,” Robin ordered.

All Steve could muster was a small grunt from his spot at the register. His forehead was pressed to the cool counter, toned arms wrapped around his head, trying to keep as much noise and light out as possible.

The bell on the door of Family Video was the final nail in the coffin. People have been coming in and out all day but this time the ring pierced through the side of his head like a burning knife, swiftly penetrating his brain and twisting it for good measure. 

Steve’s back stiffened as he sat up too fast, stomach turning when he ran blindly through the store and into the bathroom before emptying out the contents of his stomach. He tried not to think about when the last time the toilet was cleaned as he kept his face in the ceramic bowl, spitting out the rest of the sour bile coating his throat.

Steve barely heard the door creak open through the throbbing in his head and the ringing in his ears, but he did notice the light in the bathroom turn off. “Go away, Robin,” he croaked out. 

The disobedient footsteps continued towards him. He just wanted to be left alone, feeling too vulnerable in this state. He felt embarrassment twist in his chest at the thought of not being able to handle a simple headache.

A cold hand landed on the back of his neck and began to massage lightly. It felt comforting but Steve’s mind was rejecting it, “Robin, I said-”

He finally lifted his heavy head, half opened eyes widened slightly as he met your concerned gaze, only for him to start welling up. Steve’s lip trembled as it failed to keep a sob from escaping.

“Oh baby,” you whispered. “Not feeling good?”

Steve hung his head the best he could with his stiff neck and shook his head in response.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Try not to move your head too much.” 

You squatted next to him on the nasty bathroom floor and gently brought him into your arms. You let him cry into your shirt, gently rubbing soothing circles on his back and neck. Steve knew that crying would only hurt his head more, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand the emotions he was feeling yet, but he knew he was relieved to see you show up. Like a superhero, there to heal and protect him from any harm.

“I’m here now, baby. Let’s get you home, okay?”

_______________________________________________

Steve was so out of it he wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew he was snuggled in a cocoon of pillows and blankets. He peeled his eyes open and recognized the dark ceiling of his bedroom.

You were puttering around the room, tidying up a little so Steve would have one less thing to worry about. He admired how natural it looked for you, knowing where everything goes and even avoiding the loud creaking spots on the floor. Steve had the sudden urge to reach out but you tucked him in so well he was having trouble slipping his arms out.

His grunt of protest over the blanket entrapment alerted you and you were by his side in an instant.

“What is it baby?” you whispered gently, “you need some water? Or a new ice pack?” 

Only when you removed the cool washcloth from his forehead did he notice the satisfying chill. He must have been practically asleep when you brought him home because he really doesn’t remember anything.

“What time is it?” Steve croaked out.

He leaned into the kiss you pressed gently to his cheek before you answered, “almost midnight.”

“What?!” Steve immediately went to sit up, but in his weakened state you were easily able to push him back down. “We had reservations!”

“I know, Stevie. It was really sweet of you to make plans but nothing we can do about it now,” you tried to reason. “We need to get you feeling better.”

“But I-”

“Stop that,” you demanded, still with a quiet and gentle tone, but it was still enough to cut him off. “Let me take care of you, Stevie. I know you feel bad, but I want to take care of you.”

Steve wasn’t sure if you meant he was feeling bad because he was sick or because of the immense amount of guilt he feels whenever he sees himself as a burden to others. Probably a little of both.

“I just…I was looking forward to tonight,” Steve muttered tiredly. “And this stupid chronic thing just always gets in the way and I don't…I don’t like asking for help.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he was making much sense but your smile showed him you understood. Your expression was soft and comforting as you gently raked your fingers through his hair. “Steve, I love you. All of you. Every single part of you I just adore. It doesn’t matter if those parts are feeling bad or good, I’ll always be here,” you stroked his cheek gently with the back of your hand, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. “I like caring for you Steve. It makes me feel good. So don’t worry about burdening me or anything like that, okay?”

Steve felt his lip tremble again but managed to gulp down his sobs this time. He whispered a quiet, “thank you” before fully relaxing. He lazily pursed his lips, silently asking for affection, which you happily fulfilled. You moved in close and kissed his lips as a way to let him know you will support him during this tough time.

Once you were leaned back you said, “now, on a scale from one to ten, how bad does it hurt?”

“Mm…Eleven.”

“No, it’s Y/N.”

Silence engulfed the negative space until a curious Steve peeled one eye open, only to see your shit-eating grin. He knew you’d be frozen like that until he laughed, but your expression was usually funnier than the joke.

He puffed out a laugh through his nose before shutting his eyes again. “That was horrible,” he said.

“Maybe, but at least I got you to smile,” you said smugly.

“Mm you sure did,” he praised you lightly. “Now c’mere. Cuddling is the best medicine.”

It’s called ‘chronic pain’ for a reason. Sure you can dull the pain with medications and treatments but it’ll always be there. Sometimes all you have to do is deal with it and ride it out,  but it makes it so much easier when there’s someone there who loves and supports you. 

Love may not be able to cure all kinds of pain but Steve thinks your love comes pretty close.

thank you for reading!

Main Masterlist

[shorthaltsjester]

what if i said imogen is a better metaphor for generational trauma than she is for chronic pain or queerness

[chronicallymo]

my body hurts too bad but he washed my hair he sat behind me traced my scars with his eyes scrubbed my scalp washing away the dirt and the dust it still hurt but not as much I laid between his naked thighs his hands and comb finding every knot he didn't want it to hurt how lovely for him to care about the pain that a tug to the scalp might bring

m.w.

[panicismydefaultstate]

A little note for some partners, friends and family of people suffering from a mental or chronic illness- One of the most kind, supportive and loving things you can do is spend the time to educate yourself in better understanding what they are going through. Showing them that you care enough to spend time and energy reading up on how the illness works (and not just relying on stereotypical or general knowledge that can inadvertently be harmful) and different coping strategies/helpful management tips.

[mothfables]

VIII. Couch Cuddles

The Chain returns to Legend’s house to find him and Ravio cuddled together on the couch

It’s quiet when the eight of them return to Legend’s house. The Veteran had declined to go with them when they went to go see Fable for news on the black-blooded monsters, citing the need for a nap.

None of them had disagreed; the bags under his eyes were darker than usual and he moved stiffly and painfully, struggling to keep up even when they slowed their pace.

They shuffle inside, taking off boots and gear as quietly as they can. They all know how difficult it is for Legend to fall asleep, and how easily he wakes. If he can get even a few hours of rest it would do him good, and they aren’t eager to risk taking that from him.

Wind pauses from where he’s setting his boots against the wall, head tilting and ears perking up as something catches his attention. “You guys hear that?”

They all stop what they’re doing to listen. It takes a moment before they hear it: a low rumbling sound that seems to be emanating from the living room. The rest of the house is silent.

Twilight is the first to move, gliding forwards on near-silent feet as one hand drifts towards the knife on his belt. The rest of them follow warily, only to nearly stumble over each other when the Rancher stops abruptly. He glances back with a finger over his lips before moving to let them enter the room.

He gestures towards the couch under the window with a warm expression. Following his gaze, they’re met with an unexpected sight- Legend and Ravio tangled together on the couch, so thoroughly entwined it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. They’re the source of the rumbling, which the heroes now realize sounds a lot like contented purring.

Someone - Sky maybe - lets out an ‘aww’ only to slap a hand over their mouth when Legend gives an annoyed grumble.

There’s a quiet click from Wild’s slate before Time steps up and begins herding everyone away. “Alright, alright. Let’s let them nap in peace.”

They disperse, some more reluctantly than others, but the sight of Legend sleeping well for once is enough to get them to listen.

They do their own things for a while before the quiet is broken- not by any of them, but by the tangle on the couch. Twilight, who happens to be closest, looks over to see Legend frowning in his sleep.

The Vet’s face twists and he whines, disentangling his arms from around his partner to pull them close to his own chest. He shifts, suddenly restless, and whines again, the sound pulling at Twilight’s heart. He’s tempted to go over and try to comfort his brother.

“What’s wrong?” Wars’ voice makes him jump. Twilight glances over to find him in the doorway, looking concerned.

“Bad dream, I think.”

Wars comes over to stand behind him. He reaches out, only to pause. “Do- should we wake him?”

It’s not a question asked lightly: all of their group reacts differently to being shaken from bad dreams, Legend one of the worst. Not to mention doing so would likely wake Ravio as well, and they don’t know how he’ll react to being woken suddenly, especially tangled with Legend as he is.

However, it turns out they don’t have to worry about it after all. Without opening his eyes, Ravio appears to sense his partner’s distress and wraps himself tighter around the other boy, nuzzling into his hair and humming softly. Legend immediately settles, tucking his face into the crook of his neck with a sigh.

Within moments he’s sleeping peacefully once more.

“...Well, I guess that settles that,” Warriors chuckles quietly. Twilight nods.

The two of them watch the dozing couple on the couch for a few minutes more, taking in the way Legend’s body has lost it’s tension and instead curls into Ravio’s with an ease they rarely see.

Eventually Twilight sighs, clapping Wars on the shoulder as he turns to leave. “C’mon, Cap, let’s leave ‘em be. Ravio’s got it handled.”

Wars nods and together they leave the room. Legend and Ravio sleep on, content purring filling the house once more.

[youngchronicpain]

I think it is funny that I always worry that my tossing and turning from pain will cause my partner to sleep poorly. But when I went to Mississippi for work last week he really was barely able to get any sleep. And when I got home we both slept for hours and hours together over the weekend. It was lovely.

And I think it goes to show: you may think your symptoms will prevent you from being happy in a relationship. But people will surprise you. Your stuff might just line up with their stuff.

Your twitchy and constantly moving body may be exactly what they need to feel safe and comfy in bed. And their warm body may be exactly what you need to help ease your pained body into unconsciousness (when even your meds have failed).

And isn't that just wonderful?

[cistematicchaos]

The “when can I hang out with y’all? never!” part of chronic illness really sucks. Like, sometimes you can do things like watch TV, or other activities that require very limited mobility but a lot of people want to do things like go out, go on a walk, go see x thing at x place and being crippled af, I can’t do that.

So I have to say no, not today, no I can’t do that, no maybe another time, over and over and over and it gets to the point people aren’t sure if they even believe i WANT to do anything with them because their favorite things to do are so mobile and I can’t participate. Like. I don’t hate people. I really like people! But there’s so many things I can’t do. Sometimes I don’t even have the energy to TALK. So people drift away or just straight up cut me off and it sucks because no matter how often or well I explain it, they just don’t get it. :/

[enbycrip]

Not celebrating til the 30th when my dissertation is in, but that was our wedding anniversary on the 8th. 14 years married; 23 together.

We have weathered a *lot*; disability and chronic illness, pregnancy loss and fertility issues, losing Jasmine, growing into our genders and sexualities, growing up together and into the people we are now. Failing exams, losing jobs, chronic pain for both of us, supporting family difficulties, getting our own homes, dealing with governments who don’t want us to exist and a society that expects relationships like ours to break.

Love that is difficult sometimes because of a difficult world that makes your lives difficult, and so very much worth it because of who you married.

I am very lucky.

[signanothername]

The road to recovery is a long one but one eventually gets there <3

[eternalspring4]

jaisy page for tonight. I think about them a lot.

[mybodychoseviolence]

i'm so grateful for my boyfriend lately. i mean, i've always felt lucky to have him, even before we started dating, but with how much worse my symptoms have been getting over the past few months, i'm honestly amazed with how supportive and understanding he is. he helps me carry things when my tremor is bad and he was genuinely happy for me when i got my cane and he always makes sure i remember to eat and drink water and even if he's not tired, he'll stay with me if i need to take a nap. there are a million other things i could add but this post would get very long very quickly. even when i can't depend on my body to work with me, i can depend on him to support me through it. that's worth everything to me.

[tavyliasin]

“Pain doesn’t scare me, Abdirak. It is my constant companion, it seeps into every bone, every muscle, it rears its head and bites at me when I least expect, it twists my nerves to the point I should rightfully scream…but even agony can’t sustain a scream that lasts a lifetime.” You found yourself becoming more poetic, an easy cover for the deep aches that even now threatened to steal your senses. It was easier to rely on a lifetime of masking, turning whatever harmed you into something creative, something beautiful, always a vain attempt to deny the reality around you. “Besides, I can barely walk across the room, let alone think of running.” “Dearest One, I can feel it from here, now. Your eyes speak it clearer than your precious voice…” His eyes did not leave yours, softening with understanding as he read the truth from you like an open book. “Agony is a cloak that you wear, an armour you cannot remove, it is as bound to you as the guilt you feel for its very presence. I envy you…but you did not choose this path. Your guilt does not serve you.” He took the empty glass from your hand, the brief touch of his fingers reminding you of the feelings you had when you first saw him on a screen. He was…warmer than you expected. “You’re welcome to my nerves, I’ve had quite enough for one lifetime.” You smiled, almost falling back on the fake laugh you forced whenever you told someone you felt fine on a day your bones felt like they were trying to tear free from your flesh. The empty glass was now back on the table, and he was in front of you once more. Closer, this time. His hand reached towards you, fingers curling as he stroked your cheek softly with the back of his hand. “You need not of my penance, no, you need a different hand to alleviate the weight in your soul. I can show you what else your body can feel, if that is what you wish.” You stayed silent, he was so close now you could smell the slight scent of coppery blood and hot leather, mixed with a warmer note…a perfume?... Unexpected, but it was something akin to a spiced rum. Rich, heated, and a little dangerous.  “You may consider it a gift, for the generosity of your soul screaming out to the beloved Maiden of Pain, you can sing in a different tune so all the gods may hear it.” His hand caressed the line of your chin, cupping your cheek in his palm. You leaned your face towards the warmth instinctively as he brought his lips to your opposite ear with a low whisper. “Would you like that, Dearest One? To let the heavens and hells echo with the voice I can draw from within you?” The heat rose through you like a furnace, the sound waves ricocheting through your mind and body with the promise in his words. But there was one word more important first. “Reality.” You said as calmly as you could manage, his lips pressing a kiss to the edge of your ear with a surprising softness. “That is my safe word, when I want to return to Reality I will say just that, or I’ll hum this tune.” A simple melody from an old song you loved rumbled through your throat, perhaps a little off key, but the notes and pattern would be instantly distinguished from any passionate noises. “Of course, your word is my command. It shall be as if Loviatar herself whispered it to me. But I need to hear it from you clearly,” he kissed your cheek before guiding you to face his cool grey eyes. “Do you want what I wish to offer you? The love of the Maiden, along with my own?”

A little preview of a side fic I'm writing. I have about 4 WIPs on the go right now but I'm chasing the inspiration where it arises~ This one is Abdirak x Reader, and will be a dedication to all those in the community who live with chronic pain like an unpleasant roommate who refuses to move out. Abdirak understands pain, and carries a softness within him for someone who has such an intimate relationship with agony. So, darlings, how would you answer him? I'm going to finish this one when I wake in a few hours, then go back to writing Abdirak x He Who Was, which is currently over 6,000 words and about halfway done~ See you on the other side, loves, may Loviatar show you mercy.

EDIT - FULL FIC LINK HERE

[chronicallymo]

how terribly lovely you sleeping next to me the clock, past striking ten and me, never wanting  to move again the meds are seeping seeking to help dissolving into my stomach next to the ilk of searching words I've never said, "How could you love me?" when this is all that I am a mess of meds fatigue and pain and maybe a few other more awful, stranger things but when you jump in your sleep my hand seeks your skin bringing your heart to rest once again and I can't help but wonder if perhaps I am more than what I once thought all those times before

m.w.

[talkethtothehandeth]

My fiancée took me to go see the lights I missed them so much it was so cold and I was so crunchy in my wheelchair and froze my ass off in sections but it was so nice and it was so accessible and pretty and my fiancée is so beautiful

[hellyeahsickaf]

The difficult part about being a disabled person who would love to be cured is not knowing who's truly trying to help and who wants to fix you.

It sucks, thinking back at loved ones who seemed to be trying to help. My ex who put so much into researching and understanding my disabilities. Not because he loved me but because he couldn't see a future with a cripple. He wanted "someone who could keep up with him". I tried so hard to be that and man he didn't deserve that effort

Seeing the ones trying to "help" get frustrated that you're not getting better is confusing. Some things may even help you feel better, maybe help with mental clarity or pain. But if they don't see the difference it doesn't count. And you just wonder why they feel something's failed even when you say it helped. It's not good enough and you're not good enough.

They should be happy for you. But they aren't because they don't care about the suffering caused by things like brain fog and pain. They care about how it affects your functionality. Sure whatever you feel a bit more awake or can do things slightly easier but can you go out and do something fun for the day now? Can you have sex tonight? Can you sit through a movie without having a migraine? No? Then try harder, you're not fixed yet