My Invisible Life With Chronic Pain

Do you know anyone who’s living with a chronic illness? Would you even really know if they were? I’m thirty nine and I’m living with chronic pain. It’s invisible and has been loneliest experience of my life. I look fine.

I live within the vortex of three great battles. My mind, body and soul are relentlessly tested, tortured and torn apart while I watch the destruction, powerless to stop it.

After my accident three years ago, my body began physically failing me while I begged for it to function. Every action now comes with a pain consequence, this leaves me on edge and defensive. My days are planned based on what I think I can handle and my best estimate of overall wellbeing.

There aren’t really words to describe the heartache I feel having to brace myself and how I flinch when my toddler playfully runs towards me and wraps his arms around my neck. Even a hug hurts. 

After the heartbreak comes the rage. I don’t deserve this and it isn’t fair, as if I’m special and should have been spared. Guilt says I should still be grateful, so many have it so much worse. Shame tells me I’m a terrible wife, mother and friend.

My mind can’t stop analyzing my unreal reality. It all happened so quickly yet I feel like I’ve endured a lifetime of torture. Nobody understands where the bad days come from or why you pass on invitations or life in general.

I’m tired of people asking how I’m feeling. I know they care but I’m so much more than my circumstance. Is my struggle the only part of me they see once they know it exists? I miss old conversations that felt more familiar, more me.

As much as they want to, the people who love you the most can’t really save you from yourself, they can only stand beside you as you fight for your life. You alone are the warrior.

After being told to try medication for three months to help with the nerve pain, it’s been almost two years. My head is cloudy and I don’t always trust my own judgement.

Knowing what I should be able to do versus what I can do makes me feel impaired. It’s like I’m having an outer body experience where the real me is now watching this imposter who’s taken my place.

Standing calmly behind my mind and body is my soul. Surrounded by the chaos and alone in the darkness, she is the light.  She reassures me that this is only a chapter and not the full story. I mean it has to be, right?

I’ve questioned faith, fate and purpose. There is no why but what is. I am humbled. My path has changed course, a new journey awaits me in this life.

One thing that will never change is my optimism. It is with great joy and resilience that I will watch my new story unfold as I climb toward my purpose.

From this point on, I’ll live with the probability of a Magic 8 Ball. Somedays will say Outlook Not So Good, others will say Without a Doubt.