There is a quote I've been thinking about a lot the last few days:
"Pain is always new to the sufferer, but loses its originality for those around him. Everyone will get used to it except me." - Alphonse Daudet
I've learned to navigate some parts of my life while living with chronic pain and other symptoms, but I don't think any of us ever truly get used to it. For many, pain seems to find a way to feel new, even when it's always been around. It's surprising that way.
Mine has been here for a few years now. Some days, it's just louder than others.
It creeps back in slowly -- slithering through each crack in my body, all the places I've once been broken. It comes without notice. It comes unprovoked.
"Oh. It'll just be one of those days again," I'll think. The kind of day I sink a little deeper into my corner. I'll look for distractions, but few things will keep my attention. I'll forget to text back. Or I'll cancel my plans. I'll say, "I'm sorry, but I can't today." I'll become distant. I'll disappear for a little while.
Did I do too much? Walk too far? Stay up too late? Eat the wrong thing? Maybe.
But, truthfully, it doesn't matter because even if I play my cards just right, it finds a way to return.
"This is not your home."
I can't remember the last time I didn't have pain. Maybe sometime in 2012. There are days when I can keep it quiet, but there are days when it screams.
I say, "I am not okay with you here." But it tries to stay.
"I hear you. But can you leave now? Again, this is not your home."
I hear you.
But now, I guess I need to start listening. Because this - this I know: Pain, you being here, isn't a choice. But suffering? Maybe suffering is.
I won't let you push me back into the shadows. I'm bigger than you. I'm bigger than that fear. Bigger than this doubt.
For now, we will coexist, and I will listen. I've made space for you, but I will keep going. And one day, you'll stay, and I'll be the one who's moving on.
So you just need to know:
This is never going to be your home.