I am not a victim of emotional conflicts. I am human. – Marilyn Monroe
It was a day filled with complications — one of those days when nothing is going right. It began when I stood in front of the mirror to brush my teeth. I looked in the mirror and saw a lady with sagging skin, droopy eyelids, and tired soul and the smile that had quit. I had a scary feeling in my heart that she would never smile again because her lips had forgotten how. Looking at myself from the outside, I could only feel sorry for the lady in the mirror. She looked so sad and hopeless. How did she get to this point? She got caught in the rain—the rain of chronic pain disorder and depression. I see the depletion of energy and zest for life. Then I took a step back and recognized that it was me in the mirror.
When I began feeling sick and in pain, I went from doctor to doctor trying to find answers. After a couple of MRIs, the Dr. told me I had to have cervical spine surgery. The Dr. said my disc was blocking my spinal fluid. They diagnosed me with degenerative disk disease, and I had a bone fuze, which made my struggle with Fibromyalgia worse.
Things calmed down for a while, but after about a year or so, I began feeling more and more pain everywhere in my body. Why do I have so much pain, why am I so tired, why do I keep dropping things. Was I making it all up in my head? Perhaps everyone is right, and I’m making more of it than it is. Am I just being a baby? (victim). The guilt I felt was in itself emotional weight. The idea of socializing is out of the question, especially on flare-up days. As much as I would like to, there are things I cannot do, so I’ve learned to slow down and accomplish one task at a time. I’ve met many people who give total power to their condition instead of taking control of it. It’s so much easier to be left alone in our desolation than to try to make people understand. (victim)
To meet people that encouraged each other, I joined a “Fibro & Chronic Pain” support group on Facebook. I began reading the posts and noticed that there were very few people with ideas and ways to get better. After a couple of months of reading posts and seeing people’s hopelessness, I decided to find ways to inspire positive thoughts. One day, I replied to someone venting and crying that she had not bathed in three days. She admitted that her Fibro and ADD had her in bed most of the time. All I wanted to do was encourage her that she could do it. “You Can Do it!” I told her. We’re all here to support you. The person replied and let me have it. Oh, yes, she did, and it wasn’t pretty. “You’re pushy, and you’re stressing us out,” they told me. A few days later, the admin removed me from the group.
I feel that we each have a responsibility to do everything possible to preserve good health. Both mental and physical. Only those of us who live with daily pain can understand what it takes to make it through each day. But with that said, I am a firm believer that we cannot allow our disease to drive our lives. We genuinely need to do everything possible to find some calmness. Our body, our mind, our spirit are taking a toll, and because our sickness is not visible, few understand. Haven’t you ever felt so weak that you couldn’t hold your arms up? So tired that you fall asleep washing the dishes. Foggy, forgetful, confused, queasy. Sometimes fever for no reason, but sometimes quite the opposite. If it’s cold, it feels like my skin is burning. My jaw locks because of the tension in my body. I can’t remember the last time I slept through the night. Let’s be clear; I’m not looking for sympathy. There are far worse things in the world, and I know that. I am grateful for every day, but unfortunately, that wasn’t always the case.
Studies have shown that there is a link between trauma and chronic pain. I have always struggled with depression, even as a child. During my young adulthood, I battled with bulimia. Not until later in years did I decide to talk to someone. Therapy led me to find answers to my many misunderstood memories. Damage to the heart of a child comes in many forms, and as a child, I underwent things that broke me, but I didn’t realize it until I was an adult. I was hurt inside, and somehow the pain transferred to each part of my body. I felt sorry for myself and began taking it out on everyone around me. They didn’t get it, and that pissed me off. They didn’t try to get it, and that pissed me off even more. My anger turned into resentment, and from there, it all went to hell. I continued hurting myself by making the wrong choices. Through therapy, I recognized it was all about feelings of abandonment, insecurities, and emotional baggage. Now at 58, I understand; and like most of us, I wonder how my life would have been if I would have made better choices. But then I look at the situation from the outside. I give the lady in the mirror credit. She stares back at me and softly says. Look at you, Sandra, look how far you’ve come. You made it. Now you can tell the world.
“I am not a victim!”