When Today Is Another Day of Waking Up in Pain
It’s a 4 a.m. wake up call that’s not going to stop.
It’s another day waking up in pain.
It’s another day where you go to stand up and almost instantly you are on the brink of collapsing into a world of darkness that you can’t pull yourself out of immediately, no matter how hard you wish or pray.
It’s grieving for the person you once were, and missing yourself, your old self.
It’s experiencing envy because you get to watch people your age continue to blossom and do wondrous things, watching them succeed, even though you aren’t able to do the same.
It’s another day of trying to tell others about it, since it’s not well known.
It’s finding others that have the same syndromes as you, and feeling excited that you’ve found them or they you, but also feeling sadness and grief because they have the same syndromes as you.
It’s struggling to eat because you know once you do, you’ll experience severe nausea and possible dry heaves that will leave you with shifted ribs or dislocations.
It’s knowing that you have people who love and support you, but can’t help feeling alone most days.
It’s having to sit in an aisle at the grocery store because you’re too weak and short of breath from walking any bit.
It’s giving up on having a social life.
It’s giving up on having a clean apartment because you can’t manage cleaning off the sofa without feeling like you’ve been run over and then backed over.
It’s laying next to your loved one in bed and trying not to wake him with your cries and grunts of pain, or from the light of typing articles like this.
It’s medication that you don’t want to take, but have to, if you want to even stand a chance at being upright and in little pain – even though most of the time that chance is slim.
It’s countless doctors appointments that lead to other doctors and more diagnoses and more tests.
It’s reading about others with the same syndromes and feeling empathy.
It’s reading and reciting inspirational quotes that help you to move through the day.
It’s remembering that there is a reason.
It’s my life.
It’s millions of people’s lives.
It’s remembering “you have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.”
Follow this journey on Chronicles of the Chronically Ill.
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Gettyimage by: kaipong