When I have a flareup, I usually get quiet.
It’s not something I do intentionally, I’m just trying to survive.
I don’t feel like talking or being around anyone.
I don’t feel like talking about “it” because “it” is so bad that I am surrounded by “it,” being swallowed up by “it,” and drowning in “it.”
I can’t bear to talk about “it,” too.
It isn’t easy for me to communicate when I’m in the middle of a bad flare, so I don’t.
I cry.
Breathing hurts.
Eating hurts.
Air hurts.
I haven’t ever explained why I get quiet when I don’t feel well.
But I guess It’s because I don’t want people to know how much pain I’m really in.
Because it’s awful. Really awful.
People don’t like to see it.
I’ve experienced that firsthand.
It’s like inviting somebody over to watch you vomit.
No thanks.
When I’m painful, I usually have difficulty speaking. I get my words mixed up, I can’t think of the right words to say, I can’t follow a conversation...
Sometimes all I can think about is the pain.
It overloads my brain.
I don’t think when people have the flu, or they’re in the hospital having surgery, they feel like they need to call people and say “hey, I’m feeling shitty and I don’t want to talk about it.”
They just go on having the flu or recovering.
They get a hall-pass.
And that’s just what’s kind of not fair about chronic illness.
It doesn’t go away.
It’s an illness that’s chronic.
Because, well, chronic illness.
So I try to sleep.
It’s the only time I don’t have pain.
”When we honestly ask ourselves which persons in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving (unsolicited) advice, have chosen rather to share our pain...”
It’s the quiet ones who we choose to sit with us and just.be.quiet.
xo,
Nance 💜
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