Monthly Archives: September 2014

So Much Pain– Feeling Trapped by Illness

It’s gotten so hard- thinking, breathing, moving. Everything is in some strange suspended capsule of illness. I can’t leave, even for a moment, to return to clearer thoughts or more energy. I have no good days anymore, and I don’t expect them. I just exist in my secluded state of non-life, remembering when I felt more human. I obsessively research symptoms and try new drugs because the only thing that keeps me going is the thought of something better than my current state. There are no small rewards in in the present. Smiles are forced. Movements are robotic. I can’t see color anymore- there are only silhouettes of happiness or satisfaction.
I miss my strong self. There was a time when I could appreciate happiness in others, and respect my compromised position. I had more patience, grace, and an open heart. It’s been too long since I’ve had any sort of release from my illness. I feel too caged, too sad, with no windows for clear sight or enlightenment to help me cope with my situation. Even when I try to be strong and ambitious, I’m shot down, again and again. I’m faced with countless lives more full than my own. I’m constantly faced with the things I cannot do- the abilities inside me that cannot be accessed. Everything is unfair. There is so much pain and so few answers. I need there to be more. I need a fairy tale, a god, a hero, a miracle. Nothing tangible or likely is enough anymore. I need out.

No More

This is not a life. I keep counting the moments that I’m wasting- mentally tracing the outlines of plans that I have for myself that grow more into distant dreams. I watch my roommates scurry around the house and leave traces of their happy, busy selves behind. I do their dishes, dry swallow pain pills and go back to my room to think, dwell, cry, alone with my pain.
My body is confused, tired, sick. It hurts all the time and it feels weak and defensive when I try to make it get up and live. It feels alien to me. I don’t know how I’ll feel each morning when I wake up. I don’t know what sort of discomfort I’ll have for the rest of the day, or how I’ll be able to cope with it. Every day, I wake up sick, and I go to bed sick.
I tried, for a while, to keep being me, but it’s too hard. It’s too hard to drag a sick body to class and do college things and force it to do things it doesn’t want to do. I’m an outline of a person now. I am the things that Summer wanted in a body that won’t move, or live, or feel. This is not a life, anymore.