Thirty Years of Chronic Pain (and the ways I’ve learned to live with it)
Nov 2022, TW: This is a brief set of paragraphs about just one person’s experience with chronic pain, and the connected mental health and financial issues. I tend to repeat these themes in my writing (apologetically, sometimes ad nauseum) — particularly during this time of year. But in an attempt to exorcise the mood, I WRITE.
SHOWER I hadn’t showered in four days, but dry shampoo and deodorant kept me presentable. I worked from home, so I considered my lack of showering an environmentally friendly act during this long drought. That, and the acts of bending to scrub my feet or reaching to wash my hair were often unbearable. So a washcloth would have to be enough.
COFFEE Most days, I’d have more coffee than food — primarily to avoid dirtying any dishes, because I’d have to stand to wash those, too. And that would hurt.
WINE Back in the day, I used to sit under the running shower and cry my stress away, which helped loosen my high-strung muscles; but that extravagance feels irresponsible these days. The wine’s my upgraded way of loosening up.
Some time between my twenties and my forties, I’d graduated from random sweet whites to nightly bitter reds (“much like myself,” I thought), and one day, after having my glass of wine, I tried doing one pull-up on my son’s exercise bar to convince myself that I was still strong. I was wrong. Damn, I was bitter and weak.
CHOCOLATE One of the ads in last week’s mail announced that the chocolate shop down the street made deliveries — quite a dangerous thing for a woman who, when feeling empty, pained, and hopeless, has a credit card. For three days straight, I ate — nay, slowly savored — more chocolate than I’d had all year. I was fully aware of how sugar exacerbated my pain — My actual, physical, chronic pain. But after thirty years of creeping pain? Phhht. After surgeries and medications, and more botched surgeries? Heck, I really never caught a break. So what’s a little more pain in exchange for some taste-bud delight? (It’s better that sex sometimes).
DEBT Through all the lows, I did manage to keep going. Even through idiotic financial mistakes that continued to loom and remind me of my failures, and a spouse who has no concept of financial discipline.
“Nope,” I thought, “I will never be able to rest.” In addition to always either being in pain or in fear of more pain, I’ll also be forever in debt. And I’ll feel guilty until the day I die, for the legacy I’ll be leaving my children. Wine. Where’s that wine?
LEGACY I’ve been a good and kind and smart woman. I’ve managed to raise good kids. I’ve kept the lights on so far, but have maybe (certainly) catered (more than a little) too much to those who’ve demanded more from me than I do of myself. But it’s too late to change all that. I don’t think I have any room to rewrite my story. It’s just too late. Instead, I’ll pour another glass of wine and wonder if the pain might flare again. And maybe tomorrow I’ll shower...
CRY …But tonight I cry. Just not in the shower. But yes, while I’m still alone. It’s the one thing I can do that helps me feel. Just… FEEL, without thinking about the pain. If I can cry, I can wash away some of the pain — even if for only a brief minute.
JUST WRITE Writing is something I want to do all the time. And during bouts of depression, it’s a way (as I mentioned in my intro) to “exorcise the mood,” to let it all out, and to try and make some sense of — or draw beauty from — my misery.
Sometimes I annoy myself with my stark, bleak paragraphs (often chock-full of wine and whine), and I wonder, “who’s gonna want to read such woe-is-me sludge?” But maybe, possibly, there are other readers who are feeling something similar. Maybe my writings will help readers feel less alone. If I can pull the words out of my head — sometimes it’s like a tug-of-war rope, and sometimes it’s like warm taffy — maybe I can make space for a better mood, a new idea, or a lightbulb moment from out of the shadows.
Another writer, Linda Sharp, talks about something similar — about writing one’s way toward healing — in a post published in Reciprocal. It’s called “I Am Writing for My Life — Literally,” and if those aren’t just the truest words…!
I recommend you follow Linda here on Medium for plenty of insightful writings.
WAKE UP Tomorrow is another day. I have to remind myself of that… silver linings and such. It’s tough to see it when I’m deep within the clouds, but that’s the time to tell myself: give it a day or two. See if the clouds dissipate and you can see the sparkle again.
Author Mia Verita has an article in Reciprocal that’s all about silver linings. It’s a reminder that no matter how bleak things seem, there is often light behind the darkness:
Some day I hope to be the kind of person who can more easily see (or maybe even BE) the silver lining when it’s most needed — in times when the pain just won’t calm down and drama’s coming from every angle, or when the bills are late and the kids need xyz, or when the tilt of the planet just has me tipped way off-center and unable to think straight. In times like those, I’ll consider reminding myself that there’s a bright side somewhere. But whether or not I’ll actually agree with myself in that moment, is a post for another day.
Are you experiencing depression or substance abuse? Here’s a resource: U.S. Dept. of Health and Human Services — Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services. https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline
Thank you for reading. This is my first published contribution (of hopefully many more to come) to Reciprocal! If you’d like to check out more of my writing, you can find a list of my posts here: Deana K Rodriguez on Medium.
If you’d like to support me, please consider buying me a coffee here. If you want to know more about me and my writing, you can visit my “about” page here.
Not yet a Medium member? Join here to gain access to more content (and support my work! A win-win). I hope to see you again!