The Lies I Tell About How I'm Really Feeling


First of all, I’m not fond of lying.

At all.

Yet, I have become the greatest liar. I do it when I don’t even think about it. I lie to make others feel better. I lie to make conversation easier. I lie to save time. I lie because I know that the other person isn’t really listening.

My greatest falsehoods are: “Oh I’m fine,” “I’ve got it,” “I don’t need anyone else,” “Today isn’t so bad,” “Nah, I’m not crying,” “I’m just tired.”

I am beyond exhausted. I stay up because I’m in so much pain from ankylosing spondylitis that I can’t sleep at times. And, no one can handle it. I hardly can. I don’t want to burden others with the truth. My truth.

Every single morning… I’m hit with a ton of bricks that this wasn’t just a bad dream. I’m not sure what’s worse — the pain, the flu-like feeling, the constant costochondritis (inflammation of the ribcage), the depression, exhaustion, or the grieving of my old life. It’s not in remission. It won’t be.

It’s 1:30 a.m, and I’m awake. In pain. It’s Christmas time. My favorite time of the year. The lights from our tree are glowing as I type my confession.

There’s still a hint of magic in the air for me. My girls are excited and looking forward to the magic of Christmas. The twinkle in their eyes is enough to hold on, as painful to my arthritic hands as it may be. They are my excuse to keep on with my verbal fabrications.

I’ll say, “I’m fine” as a war is being fought in my body. The war my body has waged on itself. Fusing my bones together.

I’ll fight to lie another day.

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