Pain. I hate it , I find it hard to learn lessons from it. It’s emotional, physical, and it takes on a life of it’s own.
The first pain I recall learning when I was nine was the death of my beloved grandmom. She lived in my home, she was the neighborhood grandmother, and spoke with a sweet Irish Brough. Her name was as Irish as she, Bridgette. Miss Bridgett became a widow when she was pregnant with my mother. She raised four children by herself with the help of the catholic church she belonged to. She was a woman who could say things in a way that got her point across without offending, I remember the day the ambulance took her to the hospital and the next several days of being shuffled to neighbors homes and eating dinner without my family. When she died I recall my heart being torn to shreds. She was my first loved one to die but unfortunately not the last.
I am the owner of daily pain. My muscles ache, my bones throbe, and at times I cannot think straight. I tend not to tell anyone how much I hurt. Those close to me know, they just have a connection with me and tend to say things such as “sit down”, or “it’s a tough day today, I can tell”. I love them for their compassion and admire them for taking care of me and wish they didn’t have to. I hate my bodies betrayal. I have had the misfortune of having family members who think that I just don’t want to be involved in outings and use my autoimmune disease as an excuse. I am angry and wish that lupus didn’t exist . I am also a lucky woman to have people in my life who care about me. I guess this is a test, an official pop quiz on how to be stronger than you care to be. I wish I wasn’t being educated in such a annoying, life changing way.
In my life I’ve been told time and time again that I’m brave. That I’m tough, compassionate, and that if you didn’t know me you’d never know of the emotional and physical pain that I have passed through during my time on earth. I’ve had numerous sugeries, endured countless people who (without knowing owing of my diagnosis) talk about others that they don’t believe that they have pain. It has been said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. That words can’t hurt you unless you allow the to. That pain is all I your mind. I’m hear to tell you that smiles hide what medicine can’t. Makeup conceals sleepless nights, and rashes that come from Lupus. I can also tell you that pain is real and when people say it hurts alittle or its uncomfortable it’s more than likely painful. Lastly when I say “it doesn’t hurt” I usually am trying to get prying eyes off me. Not to be mean but because it’s hard to explain to some what living get with lupus is truly like – painful.