Actual Truth

Dear Abandoned Blog,

It’s not that I don’t love you anymore. Sometimes I just feel I’ve said all there is to say. The picture of my life has not yet evolved; I am still sick and I am still sick of it (more and more each day). Countless times I have moved beyond the moments of thinking I can’t take it anymore.

This summer marks four years since my headaches started and three years since diagnosis. What have I learned in all this time? Many things, that’s for sure, but none that make me feel like it’s been worth it.

It’s hard to be in pain all the time. As I once wrote, “My friends wonder how I do it, and I wonder why.” I often find myself in this numb state, where my anger is equal to my pain level and as the two compete I turn into a sort of zombie. I care so much that I just can’t care anymore, because caring doesn’t get me anywhere.

A problem shared is a problem cut in two, but I can’t share this pain because it is mine alone to bear. I’m by myself with it, feeling it day in and day out. I barely sleep anymore. I spend hours every night staring at the ceiling, blinking away tears, because the pain is so bad and there’s nothing I can do but survive it. All I want is for someone to hold me and make the pain go away.

Dear blog of mine, please don’t feel hurt. As you can see, I’ve been dealing with a lot. I’m very unhappy.

Since I last wrote to you, I graduated. I was in charge of graduation, and for three months I put my heart and soul into planning a beautiful evening. It took a lot out of me. I didn’t cry until after I got my diploma and walked offstage. It was a moment of relief, realizing it all went off without a hitch and I had no more responsibilities, but also a moment of great, deep sadness. I’m never going to get those years back.

I’ve been sick for so long, and the past four months have pretty much been the worst I’ve ever had physically. I told myself it was the pressure. It was the stress of graduation work, tests, social events, etc. But it’s been a month since I graduated, and I’m not doing very well. I’m in a pain spiral and it’s dreadful.

Please understand, dear blog, that it is not about you. It’s about me.

I love you,

Ella

Song Quote:

The tears come streaming down your face when you lose something you can’t replace. –Fix You, Coldplay

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15 comments on “Actual Truth

  1. cheryl says:

    Fix You, by Coldplay; as choreographed on So You Think You Can Dance.

    Thanks for your writing. I’m 14 years into living with Interstitual Cystitis. Your words are universal for ALL of us living each day in unspeakable pain.

    Like

    • Ella says:

      Thank you, Cheryl, that means a lot to me. And that dance is so beautiful, thank you for sharing! Loved everything except where he grabs her boob at the end…

      Like

  2. anikavon says:

    Thank you for writing about your life, Ella. I wish I could wave a magic wand and take your pain away, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who has thought that. *hug* <3

    Congratulations for graduating! I am still trying to muster the strength and courage to go back to school.

    Like

  3. (Un)Fettered says:

    I’ve only recently found you, because you found me. I wanted to say–I know the feeling of ‘this hurts too much, make it stop, it’s mine all alone, why?’ I’m so sorry that you know it, too. No one should have to know this kind of pain. I hope that your pain eases, that something, anything will come to make it better, or easier to bear.

    Reading your words has helped me deal with expressing my pain. Thank you.

    Like

  4. Lois Roelofs says:

    Congratulations on what you’ve accomplished in spite of pain. As a reader of your blog and as a now dormant fibromyalgia sufferer, I’m proud of you!

    Like

  5. I’m glad you’re back to your blog. I missed reading stuff from you. You’re an amazing writer. :)

    Like

  6. Scott says:

    Heart felt. Very emotional. I have no advice other than simply Press On.

    Like

  7. Gary Armida says:

    Dear Ella,

    I’ve been following your blog for a long time. There have been so many posts where I just wanted to write to you to say “Keep writing”. I don’t think I have, but this one, more than any other has compelled me to do so.

    I can’t offer any words regarding your condition and pain. Nobody can. I can’t even imagine the isolation that comes with what you deal with on a seemingly every second basis.

    And, I won’t offer the “keep fighting” thing either. Nobody should ever tell that to you as you are, obviously, a fighter in every second of your life. I’ve never met you, but I know you have guts, heart, tenacity, and any other word that well meaning people want to tell you to have.

    But, I will say this…keep writing.

    You are one of the few in the world that I can say this to: You are a creator (I wrote a little something about this, but I don’t want to link it here—it’s not my purpose. But, if you wanted to read why this is a big deal to me, I am sure you can click on my site or something).

    It’s my highest form of praise to another writer. You have a gift that does, indeed, make the world a better, happier place. You create from pain. You create from happiness. You find little situations (you call them anecdotes) and create. That is your gift to the world. I am sure there are millions of other gifts that you give to the world, but this is the one that made me, a complete stranger, want to continue to read. You are a creator…you don’t really have a choice in that matter. So, you might go away from writing for a while, but you’ll always get pulled back. Always.

    All the best to you. I look forward to reading your work and your first novel.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. melisdvash says:

    Thanks so much for writing. I was just re-reading something I wrote in the midst of some of the worst pain I’ve felt in years back in March. No one on the outside of it can know how bad it is. So sorry you have to go through this, but reading/hearing from others definitely makes me feel less alone.

    Like

  9. I know I can’t do anything to help. And I know that words of comfort probably don’t achieve what they intend. But hang on in there, you make the world a happier place.

    Like

  10. I find myself in a similar situation. My pain, which had been slowly increasing, is now increasing in pace, and I also thought it was just the extra responsibilities of being in charge of the Class Breakfast, which would feed about 200 students, faculty and administrators. I thought once May was over, I’d rebuild. It hasn’t happened that way. And here I am again, waiting for the end of our summer session, where I will get 3 weeks to recoup, before I start my last two semesters of nursing school. I’m praying I will regain even part of my health.

    I will tell you what I need to tell myself: sometimes our bodies need more time than we think it should to recover, and we have to be gentle with it, and give it that time. “Shoulds” are the enemy of all of us fighting with chronic illness. They place unfair expectations on our bodies. It’s a lesson I’m still learning myself.

    So from me to you: be gentle with yourself. Be kind to yourself. <3

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Victoria says:

    This made my heart hurt. Your writing, expression, and soul are beautiful. I’m glad graduation went well, and you can now look to the next chapter of your life. Even when they’re few and far between, I enjoy your posts. I know nothing I can say can really help much, but I wish you all the best, and I hope you feel better xx

    Like

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