A Letter To My Chronic Pain

A Letter To My Chronic Pain

Dear Pain In My Ass… (and head… and shoulders… and well everywhere.)

I’m writing this letter because recently I’ve realised that despite having you in my life for the last five years, there’s still a lot of things I haven’t managed to let go of from before you came. I never expected you to come into my life, and when you did, I was in no way prepared.

I mean, how could I be? I was a high achieving workaholic with dreams of grandeur and a future that I had worked hard to craft out for myself. I had sacrificed so many hours to studying, to chasing the dream of an engaging and well-paid career in academics, and to ensuring that I was disciplined enough to make it happen.

I gave up a lot. And that was my choice, because I didn’t know what was coming.

Parties. Nights out with friends. Time I could have spent doing all the things I took for granted that no longer seem to be available to me, like dancing in heels, and eating an entire box of McDonalds French fries without projectile vomiting right afterward.

I took it all for granted, and looked at my ability to get a solid night’s sleep or climb stairs without wanting to collapse afterward, as if it would always be there. If I had hindsight, I’d go back and tell myself that no future is worth giving up today’s happiness in its entirety, because nothing is guaranteed. Not holding on to our memories of the past, as mine of living without pain have become fuzzy and unrecognisable, nor a definite future of happiness and success no matter how much hard work and sacrifice we endure.

You have shown me, more than anyone else ever could have, that truly the only moment we have is now, and that we owe it to ourselves to value each moment as it comes, without expectation of what it should be.

I am not writing this letter because I am angry, for that is an emotion I left behind a few years ago, and I’m not writing it because I want pity or sympathy from anyone who might read it. I’m writing it because it is only in tapping into the unique gift of being able to take the intangible figments and ideas of my mind and make them real for others on paper, that I am able to truly see this clearly.

It is cathartic, and necessary. For I have spent the last five years not only looking at my life from the point of view of what I have lost, but also from the point of view of what I have gained. It is time now for me to put those pieces side by side, and to really understand what it is that my life has become.

And so, I am writing this letter to you. To tell you that I do hate you, that I loathe you with every fibre of my being, that you make me frustrated beyond all belief, that sometimes I wonder why you chose me. Why this happened to someone like me, who finds idleness, who finds rest so utterly tedious and unnecessary. And yet… I am also beyond grateful for you. I know that sounds twisted, sounds utterly bizarre being that I spend 80 percent of my time wishing you didn’t exist and would just fuck off, but as I cannot deny that you have changed my life completely, I also cannot deny that I wouldn’t be who I am if it weren’t for your sudden appearance.

From you, I have learned I am stronger than I ever knew. I have learned that I am more resilient than I ever imagined I could be. I have also learned the value of following my dreams. I never would have been courageous enough to step out as an Independently published author if I had not gotten sick and had my other plans made so completely non-viable.

It is because of you, my pain, that I needed my art, and it is because of that same pain that I decided to share that art, which had saved me so many times over, with others.

I also want to thank you for the reality check. For showing me that no matter how much stuff one might accumulate, no matter how much success or wealth one might come to, health is the only truly valuable thing we possess, and it is okay to put yourself front and centre in your priorities. You have taught me how to care for myself with an attentiveness I was sorely lacking, and to trust my instincts when it comes to my body and my mental health.

I also learned who my real friends are, who the people who make up my tribe are. I have lost friends along the way to be sure, but I think now that is for the best, for I do not need people in my life who cannot see how much of a struggle everyday can be for me, or think that I am simply lazy because I have no visible wound or impairment. I have learned from you about loyalty, about empathy, and about patience.

Now, because of you, I see the pain that others hide so readily, just as I do my own. I see those struggling, and I know how much simply reaching out and letting someone know you’re there can matter. I hear the words ‘I’m Fine’ and immediately know to look for the desperation I have felt so often behind my own eyes in others. I can see through the façade now, and I can also understand that everyone’s pain, no matter whether worse or less than someone elses, is still suffering in its own right and deserves to be taken seriously.

I’ve lost so much because of your sudden arrival in my life: My youth, my ability to function like a normal human being, and yet in losing that function, I feel like I’ve also gained more humanity than I had before. I see pain now in others, I see the way society, and the medical system beats down the invisibly ill and the chronically pained, because it has happened to me, and I have felt the kind of helplessness, of powerlessness, that I had never imagined someone could feel.

Through your presence, I’ve also gained a tribe of readers and fellow chronic pain sufferers, and I’ve found my calling in providing an escape for those who so desperately need it when they’re flaring or suffering at home, isolated and lonely, just like me. I feel like with my writing, I can reach out to other chronic pain sufferers and offer them a life raft, if only for a little while, and that is definitely work worth doing. I am not doing the work I trained for, or the work I expected, but I know I am doing the work I was made for.

So, I guess this letter wasn’t what I expected. I thought I would want to scream at you, to lament the unfairness of it all, to cry and yell and stamp my feet. Maybe though, I’m past that now. Past the grief of your unwanted presence, of everything you stole from me, and I am simply living in the new world I never asked for, but have come to love in its own way.

Yes, there are days when I want to punch you square in the nose, there are days when I’d give anything to up and move out of my own body, but I can’t do that, and I’m tired of fighting for a life I will simply now never have.

I am better off in peace, better off living with you, giving you the respect and space you require, and appreciating the fact that while I never asked for the changes that came with you, that I have somehow become more myself than I ever thought I would be able to.

The truth is, before you, chronic pain, I was scared. I was on the tracks that society told me were for me, rather than those I was drawn to. I was too afraid to leap into the unknown, too afraid to take a chance on my own talent, my own creativity. It is only because of you that I find myself awake everyday, in pain no doubt, but also with a purpose that fills me so completely with wonder and happiness that I cannot remember how I got through the day before.

Maybe I’m an optimist, or maybe I’m just realising that no matter what happens, no matter how bad things may seem, it is how you perceive your life that matters, and whether you count your little blessings, or ignore them which will determine your happiness.

Not money. Or success. Or fame.

But gratitude.

So, while I could write you hate mail, could leave a sack of burning shit on your doorstep, I choose gratitude instead.

Thank you, for everything you’ve given me, despite everything you’ve taken.

Love,

Kristy x

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