Getting Over It

In my previous post, I wrote as if there were days when I am pain free which would be a big mistake for me to make. Like many of you, I hurt every day. To some degree or another, I hurt every minute of every day. It's not something I can just shrug off. God knows I've tried. As a kid, I learned my fear of being a hypochondriac. Since I had a good idea that any given day at school would be miserable, I was afraid that it was a psychosomatic illness. My self test involved the curative powers of good music. I turned on my radio and tried to dance and was only satisfied when the effort made me feel worse. Then I knew I was really sick and I wasn't conning anyone.

If you can't find the logical flaws in that process, I'll help. I suffered a long major depression and depression is a real illness with real physical symptoms. On the other hand, it doesn't provide evidence like a fever or something else useful. I should have realized that I would have known if I were conning someone. That was another lovely symptom of my mental state. I was so inherently bad and lazy that I had to doubt what my body was telling me. I needed to toughen up. I had no idea what real pain was.

Those sort of doubts persist to this day in milder forms but they exist. Sometime in March, I took a serious turn for the worse where pain levels were concerned. For once, I couldn't link the decline to weather, mood or activity. I just hurt to the point where I couldn't find adequate descriptions. When the decline reversed almost as quickly as it began, I was delighted and tried to jump back into life. My failure to do so at what I considered to be an adequate pace made me doubt myself. Am I someone who is committed to writing or just another impostor?

For some reason, I expected to be able to just get up and dust myself off after a solid month of agony. The fact was that I needed to rest physically and mentally before testing the old engine again. When I tried too soon, I was scared at the first sign of failure. I just wanted to huddle under a blanket until it stopped hurting even though I knew it wouldn't stop completely.

Really! What do I expect from myself? This wasn't something that I could just shake off like I stubbed my toe. The fact is that those of us suffering from chronic pain do have increased pain tolerance and remarkable resilience to come back day after day to face our baseline illnesses. People don't just take looks over the edge of the Abyss and get back to daily life right away. Some never make it back. I was struggling with the idea that plans I've revealed here and others I may mention when I can would be ruined by impossible pain levels.

I'll tell you what I will do. I'll take a maximum dose of breakthrough pain meds, consider a dose of the anti-anxiety pill and enjoy the fact that I'm watching bands play live. As far as daily life goes, I'll continue to write here when I can. I've seen some evidence that I might have a regular reader or two. That means a lot to me although I'll continue to write this either way. I don't know exactly how I'll help but I'll muddle through and find a way.