Life has been utter chaos. I moved in to my new apartment and I just started getting settled – I mean, I even bought a pretty spoon rest for the stove. My cookbooks are arranged in color order. My work at work creeps into my nights. And the CRPS took a turn for the worse.
Maybe it was that fight I had with my mom – these things happen, I know. Or maybe it was that I kissed a boy or two and managed to utterly mess it up as I do. Maybe it is my feelings of failure when I can’t get the whole apartment scrubbed down on a Saturday because just getting out of bed hurts. Maybe it’s that I think I can do everything and end up worse for the wear because I didn’t choose how to spend my energy wisely.
What I do know is that I managed to trigger a flare. Right when life was supposed to be getting easier and the pain was supposed to be more manageable. Those jeans I was so excited about a few months ago? They are in the back of my bottom drawer – where they have ended up by not being worn in a few months. I fell in the bathroom today because my spine was turned up too high. I had to text a coworker from the floor of the bathroom to get my remote so I could change some settings and stand up.
I’ve now missed a birthday party and a night watching music in the park. I’ve cancelled lunches and dinners. I haven’t made it on a single roommate walk to the beach. (It is 4 blocks away). I’ve had to ask very annoyed people sitting in the handicapped seats on the el to move so that I could ride the train at rush hour.
I was being good about it. I really was. I made an appointment with my doctor. He was on vacation, so I waited. Now I have a nerve block scheduled and I am praying, really, really praying, that I get my brain back soon.
The drugs are robbing me of my ability to think clearly. The pain is zapping what little willpower I have left. Soon, someone is going to notice that I am having trouble doing my job. That after a meeting it takes an hour to recover. That I am smiling to keep myself from running to the bathroom and having a good cry.
I’m supposed to be the positive one. The one with a message of hope and perseverance. Showing you that it doesn’t matter what ails you – life is happening, and you can participate fully.
Except…this week, I can’t
This week, I need to give myself that pep talk. I need to be a cheerleader for hope – because I am starting to feel despair. That life that I am supposed to have, that life that everyone thinks I have, I don’t. I’m fairly certain that I have never wished this hard for modern medicine to have come up with a replacement for nerves.
I need to keep repeating that the sun will rise. This darkness will end. The pain ebbs and flows – it will go down again. Maybe the sun will rise after this nerve block. Maybe it will take one more. Maybe I have to get used to the fog – the way I got used to the pain. Maybe I need to stop expecting so much change and start celebrating my small wins. The hitting 10,000 steps every day win. The getting greens in my breakfast win. The making a good, homemade dinner every night win. The happy client win. The letting someone in win.
I don’t know when the sun will rise. Or when I will be in less pain. I just need to keep reminding myself that the day with less pain is coming. That my world won’t be this dark forever.