And you’re still in pain?
This is a hard onw for people to grasp at times. The pain is constant. It doesn’t stop. My combination of illnesses make it particularly nasty, as there reaĺly is at least one type of pain in every area of my body at any given time. Many areas are impacted by several different kinds of pain, and the last year really has been a lesson in what my body can put me through, and what I can go through.
That sounds very much like me and my body are at war. It does feel that way sometimes. When I’m vomiting or dizzy from blood loss with my awful periods, or when I’m on the sofa unable to move because of fibromyalgia flare, if feels very much like me and it. Seperate enterties. I guess it’s a coping mechanism, though just like with anything there is plus and minus points, and in this instance the minus point is being so uneasy with my body that I don’t trust it whilst I’m living in it.
It sounds bizarre I’m sure, but I’m also sure those with, or familiar with, chronic illnesses and chronic pain will not be surprised by the description. Not knowing what will happen next, not knowing how long my body will keep going until it breaks down for the day… of course there is an element of the unexpected in the life of everyone, but knowing you don’t know what to expect is a frustrating sensation I am struggling to successfully describe.
Picture, if you will, a car that needs work on it. You know it’s damaged and could break down at any time, but you have no way of telling if that will be as you’re leaving your location, or of you’ll manage the journey. You spend the entire time in the car on edge, waiting for the warning signals you’ve become used to seeing, giving you a short time to get somewhere safe before it stops working.
This would be no way to function with a car, and it’s no way to function with a body either.
The unpredictable nature of my illnesses make having a social life of any kind hard. I used to see a few people fairly regularly, but the majority of my social life lives via my phone and the internet now. There’s no issue with that, but it can sometimes feel very isolating. Feeling that your body is depriving you of friends is not a nice way to feel. My friends are wonderful though, in person and through technology, and I wouldn’t chamge them for the world.
What I would change is my illnesses. I don’t remember what it is like to feel full of energy, and not bone achingly tired. I can’t recall not being in so much pain that every movement is measured. I miss not having to plan a day out around naps and medication. I envy those who have a social life.
Most.of all, I have forgotten having a body I can trust and rely on; that trusty car people use without thinking about, without needing to think about because it simply doesn’t stop working.