I live with chronic pain.
Six years ago, barely one month after my husband and I said “I do”, I was in a terrible car accident that occurred while I was driving home from work one evening. I took my first ride in an ambulance while my husband rushed home from a work trip to be by my side. After a night in the hospital, I was sent home with a neck collar and prescriptions for three intense pain killers.
The days, months, and years following have been a blur of insurance claims, meetings with my attorney, appointments with spinal surgeons, physical therapy, time off of work, a myriad of medications – both prescribed by doctors and self-subscribed, injections, x-rays, and CT scans.
There are happy moments, too, of course. We take vacations, celebrate anniversaries, and four years ago we welcomed our beautiful daughter into the world. However, I never feel like I am able to enjoy the happiest moments 100% because there is always something holding me back.
Pain. Every. Single. Day.
I thought I knew what pain was before. I’d sprained an ankle or two playing basketball as a kid. This pain is different. It feels like it radiates from my neck to every cell in my body. It fogs my brain with dark thoughts that scare me. It prevents me from doing so many things I’d loved before like exercising, simple things such as reaching high for something in a cabinet and sometimes even having sex. Some days are worse than others. On the worst days, all I can do is lay on the floor in a way that hurts the least and just cry. On the best days, I can smile and pretend everything is fine despite the nagging pain.
My chronic pain took a massive toll on my relationships, especially my marriage. At one point, I told my husband he didn’t deserve to be married to someone so broken and that he should just divorce me! The pain consumes me, body and soul, but it’s invisible to the outside world. As time passed, my loved ones stopped asking how I was doing with regard to my “accident pain”, but my pain was just as clear and present as it was the day of my accident. My fogged brain told me that meant they didn’t care anymore and left me feeling resentful towards the people who love me the most.
Talk therapy gave me the opportunity to confront the dark thoughts my fogged brain had given me. Although I’m still in pain every day, I’ve gleaned some important life lessons from this whole experience:
- I cannot control what happens to me {for the most part}, but it’s up to me to control how I react to it
- I need to clearly express to my loved ones how I am feeling and what I need from them
- It’s okay to accept help
- My pain does not define me
Are you someone who is living with chronic pain? You are not alone. What has helped you during the hard moments?
