You’ve been with me since my first day on Earth and will be with me until my last. You’ve survived bumps and bruises, coughs and colds, chicken pox and shingles. However, I increasingly feel at war with you.
Half of me wants to celebrate and thank you for being as strong as you are. Regardless of what life throws at you, you face it every day, you don’t give up on me. You are the vessel that is carrying me through every day of living with a chronic illness. When I’ve had enough and want to throw the towel in, you don’t let me.
However, body, I feel betrayed by you. Why have you failed me so badly? I get that you had to do something to stop me from imploding, to force me to stop and rest. But four years later you still aren’t allowing me to restart the life I was loving living. I’ve done everything I can to show you I totally understand that I need to treat you with more respect. I’ve learnt that my mind is just as important to care for as my bones and muscles. I’ve taken onboard every piece of advice, kindly noted every strategy and suggestion and tried to remain upbeat and positive in order to take steps forward.
Yet, no matter how many steps forward I take, I enjoy myself that little bit too much and you punish me. Or at least that’s what feels like. You plunge me into depths that feel impossible to surface from and I have to admit, I am running out of patience, strength, hope and optimism. How long will you keep this up? I honestly can’t see when you will, and that cripples me. You must see and feel how you are defeating me? What have I got to do to let you allow me to come out of this never ending tornado?
I am so tired of fighting for you, body. I need something back. I need you to start letting me have prolonged periods of “normality” because right now I feel like you’ve plugged me in somewhere and sucked out all of my joy and hope and left me with hatred and frustration. I can usually kick start myself after a few days and go onto auto pilot of being positive and glass half full but this round in the ring has left me empty. It feels like you are winning. You’ve let me keep my hair this time round which I am so grateful for but I find myself resenting it too because people think I am better without realising that I am probably having to fight harder than I have done in a long time to stay above water.
I’ve done my best not to embarrass you; I don’t complain about the pain and fatigue, I very rarely honestly answer the question, “how are you?’ in order to not become the person people avoid because I’m moaning and ‘seeking attention’. In fact, 80% of the time I have become quite the master at masking the daily pain and presenting the illusion that I’ve had a glorious sleep and am rejuvenated. I don’t give in to the frustration of how much I love having my hair back but how devastatingly hard it can be to have to use my energy on drying it with a heavy hairdryer in the morning. What. More. Do. You. Want?
Not only are you overwhelming me with fatigue and pain but you are targeting my mind with a full on nuclear attack. I wake every day with a feeling of darkness and dread. A feeling that I just don’t want this anymore. I want to live and engage in life, I know that I have so much to live for but I just don’t want this life. I didn’t choose this life. I didn’t imagine this life. The thought of living this life without an end point is excruiciating.
However, regardless of this hourly battle, I am still trying to be kind to you because you’re mine. You’re my body and I can’t exchange you or trade you for new parts. I’m feeding and watering you, I’m bathing you and doing my new autogenic training exercises with you to make you live in the present and feel at peace. I’m trying to find good in every day and still endeavour to be kind to those around me. I’m trying to speak more kindly to myself and to you without putting you down, beating you up and berating you for every little thing you put me through. I’m working through every strategy in my toolbox to see which one you’ll be happy with to allow me up and out of this horrendous flare up. But, sadly, you’re clearly not happy enough with my homework and consistently leave the comment, ‘must try harder.’
So, I shall try harder. I will figure out somehow, how to navigate this new hurdle and do what I can to persuade you that I will pace myself better, take more care and love you for what you are and not make you feel bad by wishing you weren’t doing this to me. I am learning to try and accept you for what you are. My body.
If you could just meet me half way, that would be great.