FIBROMYALGIA Crying the person who was before a chronic disease

Sitting at the end of my bed, she suddenly hits me in the chest like a ton of bricks. My lips tremble, I feel a lump in my throat and I have to stop before the tears flow.

I find it hard to put on my socks and, quickly, I remember that my life is gone and will never be what it was. It took me a while to mourn the loss of my old self, and even more to realize what I was doing. Mourning.

And like pain, no matter how long you need to heal, you will never cry. Over the years I have lost loved ones, very special people for me and I think about it every day. Now that the years have passed, nothing is lost with remembering them, thinking about them and the beautiful memories I shared with them. However, sometimes I’m unprepared.

I’m going to see my favorite lollipops in the store and I’ll get them, then it’s lightning. My girl is not there anymore. That’s where it hurts the most, when you forget that loss for a second.

It is a similar process with my condition. Now that I have struggled with this problem for almost 10 years, it is now easier to accept my limits, but from time to time I want what I have.

I forgot that I have limits and as soon as I remember things I can not do … It is when the blow hits my throat and eyes, because it is a very real and raw pain. This is the first time I hear about the news, once again it is pain and confusion and it is heartbreaking.

All the steps are followed quickly: he denies his illness, he presses himself to the absolute limit, then he feels such anger when he has trouble keeping up with others or to perform simple tasks.

Then comes the negotiation: if I became healthier, I would exercise more, eat less shit, meditate more … But no matter what you do, your illnesses will not disappear. The awareness of this causes depression, does not feel well enough, feels helpless and helpless until, finally and fortunately, he makes the whole turn to be accepted again.

Every time I go through the cycle, I get to acceptance faster and it lasts longer. This does not mean that I am happy with my illness, but it suits me. It is part of me now and, in most cases, I accept it, in the same way that, although my grandmother misses me with all my heart, I managed to accept her loss.

When I think about my grandmother and how much she misses me, I also think about my happiness to know her, to be loved by her and to have wonderful memories that no one can keep me.

When I think about my rheumatoid arthritis, I should also see the positive aspects. I have more than what I lost. My illness changed me, but it did not reduce me. He made me more empathetic with the others, he made me stronger, he made me a fighter and, what is more important, he showed me how much my family and friends loved me.

Sometimes I will mourn my old body and the normal and painless life I might have lived. But for the most part, I will make the most of what I got, which, when I think about it, is more than enough.


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