Those of you who are reading this most likely know my health issues. I haven't had a single day without some level of pain in four years and six months. The pain has never dipped below my own personal 3.5 on the pain scale, and there have been way too many days in which my heart has been complicit in the matter, pumping pain throughout my body with its every beat. The days on which my blood feels like poison because it is so loaded with pain.
Anyway, when you are a sick mom, you can't only take care of yourself. You have to monitor how your disease is affecting your family emotionally. Do your children feel gypped because their mom can't play sports or run with them? Does your husband feel cheated because pain has worn you to the tiniest of particles by 6 pm? Are your children taking advantage of the guilt you feel for being sick and trying to manipulate you into things?
All of this has been my experience over the past 4 1/2 years, and without any discernible end, it will continue to be my experience. But nothing has brought it to my attention as much as the letter I found after Christmas break.
I was cleaning out a daughter's craft area and found a folded piece of Christmas wrapping paper. I was just about to throw it away when a quiet voice in my head told me to open it. Inside, I found the following:
"The gift I would most like to give is no more pain for my mom. She is in constant pain so badly that she has trouble just walking. I remember when she had no pain, which was when I was 4. Then she had a heart attack and now she has chronic pain. I would love to be able to play soccer in the backyard with her again, and mess around with her, but she can't because of her pain. Her medication pile covers our counter. I hate it so much. It would be awesome for it to be gone." Child's signature.
Even reading it now is a punch to my gut. I can't read it without crying. I wrapped it carefully and I carry it in my wallet. I don't know why, but maybe it's just that it's the one time that this child has clearly expressed his feelings about my illness and there's no taint of manipulation. The letter wasn't placed out in the open for all to see. It was tucked away in the chaos of the craft center, and I think he just forgot about it.
Perhaps the hardest part of this is that, as would any mom, I would do anything to protect my children from heartache and pain. But what pains my child the most is me and I can't do anything about it.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
2012
Having just supplied a link here, I thought it might be a good idea to read though my posts and reacquaint myself with my own words. I guess I should note that it is good to finally be able to read this without getting sucked back in to the darkness that covered so many of my years. That didn't keep me from tearing up, though. God has done wonderful things with our marriage and with my life. I just think that perhaps you never are too far from pain like that. It's not that it hasn't been dealt with, worked through, forgiven. It's just that going back and reading a journal, of sorts, takes you back to the emotions felt then. I'm glad that I have those words because they allow me to access the emotions suffered by any person who is going through depression or an assault on their marriage. And I think that is a crucial part of being able to empathize with someone who is going through those things now. I also think it is good for someone like me who crams everything down inside. It's a good "equipment check" to make sure that I have dealt with these feelings and not just crammed them away like outgrown mittens.
I'm very happy to report that this is the first winter I've had in eleven years that hasn't included a debilitating depression. I have finally found the right mix of counseling and medication to keep the darkness at bay. I can't even quite express how different a winter is when it doesn't involve clinging to life by my fingernails. I have my struggles, my emotions, etc., but they don't threaten to overwhelm me like a cresting wave. I encourage anyone who even thinks that they may be dealing with depression to see a doctor. If the first medication doesn't work, keep trying. Even if it takes you eleven years. Being on the other side is worth it. I promise you that you don't need to fear winter with its grey days and encroaching nights. There is hope. It involves hard work on your end: exercise, better eating habits, counseling, doctor appointments, etc.. But it is worth it. While I would love to think that the medication I am taking now will work forever more, I'm too experienced to buy that myth. I know there will be future struggles. But for now, today is good.
On the physical side, I am still ill. My own little group of doctors seem to have come to a conclusion that it is an autoimmune disease called Mixed Connective Tissue Disease, along with fibromyalgia. Not exactly what I aimed for when I was young and dreaming of my adult years, but it is what it is. It has been a very long, painful 4 1/2 year process. I have gone through disbelief, anger, rage, sorrow, fear, questioning and turning my back on God, some more anger, distress over my health's impact on my family and marriage, and a little more anger. Right now, I am at a place of peace (as much as one can have with 3 kids, a couple of pets, and a lot of physical pain). My prayer throughout this year of Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) has been that God would use me where I am, and that He might tell me what I can do for His kingdom from this illness. I have realized that raging doesn't heal me. Anger doesn't heal me. Nothing can heal me. There aren't any medications that will fix this. It will go how it is meant to go. It will either end my life prematurely or it won't. My pain will get worse or it won't. I may very well be on morphine for the rest of my life and yes, that is not at all what I want. But...anger, fear, rage, sorrow...they only paralyze me. They keep me from making the only difference I can make from my place of pain, which is to submit myself to God's hands and beg Him to use me. Allow me to reach others, help others, however He would mold me and use me, that is my opportunity here.
And so I pray.
And I wait.
I'm very happy to report that this is the first winter I've had in eleven years that hasn't included a debilitating depression. I have finally found the right mix of counseling and medication to keep the darkness at bay. I can't even quite express how different a winter is when it doesn't involve clinging to life by my fingernails. I have my struggles, my emotions, etc., but they don't threaten to overwhelm me like a cresting wave. I encourage anyone who even thinks that they may be dealing with depression to see a doctor. If the first medication doesn't work, keep trying. Even if it takes you eleven years. Being on the other side is worth it. I promise you that you don't need to fear winter with its grey days and encroaching nights. There is hope. It involves hard work on your end: exercise, better eating habits, counseling, doctor appointments, etc.. But it is worth it. While I would love to think that the medication I am taking now will work forever more, I'm too experienced to buy that myth. I know there will be future struggles. But for now, today is good.
On the physical side, I am still ill. My own little group of doctors seem to have come to a conclusion that it is an autoimmune disease called Mixed Connective Tissue Disease, along with fibromyalgia. Not exactly what I aimed for when I was young and dreaming of my adult years, but it is what it is. It has been a very long, painful 4 1/2 year process. I have gone through disbelief, anger, rage, sorrow, fear, questioning and turning my back on God, some more anger, distress over my health's impact on my family and marriage, and a little more anger. Right now, I am at a place of peace (as much as one can have with 3 kids, a couple of pets, and a lot of physical pain). My prayer throughout this year of Bible Study Fellowship (BSF) has been that God would use me where I am, and that He might tell me what I can do for His kingdom from this illness. I have realized that raging doesn't heal me. Anger doesn't heal me. Nothing can heal me. There aren't any medications that will fix this. It will go how it is meant to go. It will either end my life prematurely or it won't. My pain will get worse or it won't. I may very well be on morphine for the rest of my life and yes, that is not at all what I want. But...anger, fear, rage, sorrow...they only paralyze me. They keep me from making the only difference I can make from my place of pain, which is to submit myself to God's hands and beg Him to use me. Allow me to reach others, help others, however He would mold me and use me, that is my opportunity here.
And so I pray.
And I wait.
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