To Gain Within Surrender, and Persevere

        This week's topic is a bit awkward for me.  I really squirm and hesitate to talk about some things, because I have emotional quirks, like everyone else, and this one has been with me a lifetime; so while I'm well-acquainted with it, I'm in the process of overcoming my fears of things (hence beginning the PB Project to begin with).  Therefore, this topic in my list of potentials happens to be one I'm ready to stare down and hope not to stumble in the process!

        Just know: this is a lot of my head bumbling about, this week, so no promises of eloquence, clarity nor entertainment value.  My only goal in the Project is to help connect with those who need it in a way that is hopefully healthy and uplifting.  My apologies if I kinda fall flat, this time.

        The topic really isn't that big of a deal, in The Grand Scheme of Things.  Honest!  It's about the gifts I've gained through chronic pain and illness.  But it needs to be said, that the big deal in my head is that I don't want to be seen as a complaining, whiny whiner-head, and so I try to avoid it unless I'm really having a rough time and need a friend to come pull me out of "The Zone".

        I'm actually a really social person, and so having this be an increasing issue has been really challenging for me.  The more I feel pressed into The Zone, the more I fear discussing it (for fear of chasing people away).  The more I fear discussing it, the less I reach out and engage with people.  The less I reach out, the less they are engaged with me, and so the relationships drift.  This makes a spiraling effect, because feeling less engaged is much of the problem that starts it all!

        I suppose I could then have made this topic into "How not to get into the emotional death spiral that can accompany chronic pain and illness."  However, I'm just explaining my week of inability to actually write the post I was originally going to write, but just couldn't, so decided on this actual one instead, only to struggle with this one because in order to do that I have to face having people know some of what my life is actually like... hopefully with a positive spin... which is awkward.  Anyway...

Oh look, I'm actually getting to the point!  Yay! *\o/*

        What have I gained through chronic pain and illness?  It's actually a rather tough question, depending on the moment.  I could say the basics, like character strength, empathy, compassion, understanding.... I could also say knowledge of huge amounts of medical and mental health terminology, medicine names/purposes, procedure details, what my organs look like....  I could add connection with amazing people, including doctors, scientists, physical and mental health therapists, other patients, and friends who have been amazing during the times they've passed through my life.  These have all been incredibly beautiful and helpful things, and have helped me maintain a fairly decent quality of life.

        On the other hand, reality is reality.  I could also say that I've gained a great deal of frustration, disappointment, stress, depression, feelings of hopelessness and isolation, and realizing the truth about many of the relationships I had and how imbalanced and unhealthy they had been; and lost many.  I've gained a number of grief processes, and many interact and intertwine, teaching me how to process loss and misery in various ways, because each experience of loss expresses itself in its own, unique way.  I've learned what anger, bitterness and impatience feel like, and how they can affect myself, my life, and those around me.

        I have been forced to learn how to budget my time, energy, and other resources internally and externally, and pay incredible attention to every, little detail of what is going on inside my body and analyze what is happening so I can best respond, treat or avoid (see The Spoon Theory).  I have learned how to swallow huge amounts of pills all at once, because if I took them one at a time, I'd be doing nothing but swallowing pills all day, and while that would give me a fantastic fluid intake, it would seriously limit my daily activities!  I've learned how to use a cane, and how to watch my steps very carefully when outside my home, because surfaces are not as smooth and straight as our eyes would normally accept.

        I've learned the value of keeping a clean bathroom, and how to quickly organize a care center when I can sense that it's going to be a long night on the bathroom floor.  I've learned how to keep a packet with me with my health essentials, in case I'm traveling and need something like a rescue inhaler, specific pain medication or lotion.  I've learned how to dress for the elements with a sensitive body (still working on that one), and how important layers and seams are when preparing for the day, or night.  I've learned to keep food prepped to "grab-and-go"; meals in the freezer, snacks or sweets I can take with me when we're going to be with other people, so that I don't get caught by their sudden desire to eat something I can't.

        I've learned how to ask for help when I need it.  I've learned how to explain my conditions to doctors who have no clue, and then discuss with them the pros and cons of a given treatment, using their expertise and my ability to gauge my progress.  I've learned how to do elimination diets, with food and medications, including how to do the steps up and down in doses when starting or stopping a medication, respectively.  I've learned how to research conditions and verify from multiple sources, rather than just trusting a doctor who isn't absolutely sure, or doing a 'net search and then freaking out diagnosing myself with horrible, weird things... what I actually have is horribly weird enough, thank you!

        I'd like to add, however, that I've also gained the ability to see the tiny, little points of light in the middle of the gray days, and I know how to look for help when I can't see them in the blackness of the darkest nights.

I see the flowers,

and the insects,

and the rhythm of life in the seasons.

I see the clouds

and the patterns of the cracks in the sidewalk.

I see the looks on faces when they are surprised by something,

or when they laugh.

I hear the wind, 

and how it sounds different, depending on where it blows,

and through which trees.

I hear the comforting whir of the furnace

as it spreads warmth through my home.

I hear footsteps and how varied they can sound.

I feel temperatures, much more clearly, now.

I feel textures from fabrics, furnishings, even fluids, differently.

I feel the parts of my body, where they are and how they're doing.

I feel emotion much more poignantly,

and am learning a heartbeat is so much more

than a sign of a functioning body...

but a sign of a living soul.

I notice a lot of things that I never would have noticed,

rushing around in a "normal", healthy life.

I treasure the little things...

...because I don't know what the next moment will bring

to make me wish I'd treasured it more in that moment.

        The PB Project has been instrumental in my survival, this past, nearly two years, especially the daily interaction with the PB Facebook Community Page.  It gives me a way to force myself to see positive, hopeful things, and share them with others... as well as get feedback that is loving, supportive and full of gratitude.  Every day, the community members show me light, love and hope, and that inspires me to keep going when I feel like giving up.  Creating something that has helped so many others, has helped me save myself.  Amazing how love can do so much, even in tiny increments.

        So... I've also gained you.  And you are wonderful, and I am deeply grateful for you!  Thank you for all you do, even just the occasional comment of support.  It makes everything I do here worth the doing.  And I'm glad I could do this post, so I can remember some of those points of light even in the reality of the mess I have found myself living.  So onward, we go.

        Better days ahead, my friends!