“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.”
Living with physical pain can be so demoralizing because of the inability to fully enjoy life. The painful daily reminder kills the flesh and soul deeply plunging into a dark episode of depression. I feel inadequate at home, at work; I concentrate on the pain, the medicines, and yet nothing seem to alleviate this never ending cycle of agony.
I can’t see the point of getting up. There is nothing to look forward to; the amount of bills piling up, the late rent payments, the lack of money and Christmas around the corner. I get up for my children, we make plans to bake cookies for the weekend, watch all the Christmas specials on Netflix, etc…my heart melts when they admit not caring about gifts this year, instead, we plan a trip to the dollar store so they can purchase toys for their cousins using their saved money. Bless their little hearts.
I am the eternal optimist, the motivator, but chronic pain has set me back into a corner of tears I feel i’d end up checking myself in the hospital again soon. I’ve been dreading all week to get in touch with friends, someone to pour myself into, but I feel like a burden. The consuming desire to get better is the purpose of my writings. It is a safe path away from anxiety and feeling useless. I am depressed, but not suicidal. I often wonder “what is my life, and what I am going to do with it?” I am afraid of this dark monster inside of me waking up to take away everything I’ve remain so hopeful for.
Here I am, subdued by my past recollections and confused if the physical pain is creating this mass of contradictions or if indeed I am going mad. “You’re not the only one suffering” a loved one told me, well, I know for a fact not normal person should suffer the consequences of financial burden, act “normal” at work, feel pain every second of life, numbness from psychotic drugs, responsibility for an entire family and have a sense of self-preservation. I decide to ignore these hideous presumptions and let myself drown in a sea of tears, it is the only way I know I’m still human crying her way to freedom while my world falls apart.