I never thought in a million years I would be able to understand chronic pain like I do now. Pain humbles the soul, beats it down and then steps on it, only to spit on it once its face is turned upward to take its next breath. Pain takes so much out of a person and that pain is felt by me — it has left me feeling empty, like I could be hugged for the rest of my life and still feel lifeless.
The flare ups with chronic pain make sense and are easier for others to relate to, at least this is how it seems within my clouded mind. Pain every once in a while is “normal” and “understandable”. Most people pity instead of provide empathy, but at least people aren’t as judgemental during this time. Everyone has had a day or two where their back hurts or their foot hurts or their head hurts, so a frame of reference can stand up under these circumstances.
It is when the days turn into weeks and months or even longer, people stop understanding. I suppose I am glad others can’t understand because that means they don’t know what it feels like to experience every single waking day and night. What drives me crazy is how people can start thinking less of me when the pain overwhelms me and then it overwhelms me for more days than it allows me to feel human. When I have the days I feel like dancing around the room, I can’t find people to dance with me – they are all too busy – they don’t understand my little victories… they don’t appreciate my little victories… yet the always seem to find time to complain.
Chronic pain is like being on a treadmill in a cave where it is dark and cold. I find myself shivering and I can’t seem to warm up, even when I venture into the sunlight naked.
The worst part of all of this is how I’m almost forced to pretend as if the pain isn’t here. I have to numb myself so others will accept me. I have to keep myself busy, working or crochetting or going to church or I have to find some other way to contribute to society. The busier I stay, the less I tend to feel, which is very true… except when the chaos stops, then the pain just rushes over me. Staying in bed all day long isn’t “appropriate”, even when that is the safest way I have of coping with the world.
When I’m attempting to numb myself to death, the pain always finds a way to come out. I blow up at friends for things that don’t really matter, I find myself unable to get restful sleep, and I act like I need Midol. I become angry, irritable, irrational, overly emotional, completely exhausted after blinking, and I find myself very alone. I pull myself tight inside – I hide from other people – I focus intensely on showing the side they want to see, only to ignore myself, which completely accomplishes NOTHING.
Pain never goes away, it just changes form. When I’m angry at the world, I make them hurt. When the world is angry at me, it just amplifies the physical and mental pain that the out-of-control feelings of being in chronic pain seem to cover me with…
Hang in there. I read your blog regularly, in fact I found your blog by accident, and it is what decided me to try writing one. Not that I have written much, still trying to get the nerve to write how I really feel. We have some things in common, and I feel for you.
I agree that people don’t want to understand (many things) and sometimes I wonder if they even care. Keep on writing, hopefully that will help you. You are in my thoughts.
Cheers for now.
Chronic physical pain is terrible (I suffered from severe endometriosis for almost 30 years). When you live with constant pain day after day after day, it becomes a part of you and it’s almost impossible to remember what life was like before, or imagine how life would be without it. Add to that the emotional pain – both that caused by the condition and that due to other issues – and it can truly be a soul-crushing burden.
Manic activity for the sake of it is a fairly effective way not to feel, or not to feel so much, but it too has its penalty.