wanted needed to write. I don’t know why. I don’t know how much I really have to talk about. And I don’t know if my life experiences being screamed into the heaving void of the internet would ever really matter much. Everyone is having a bad time after all.
But then I think of the thing that I tell anyone who comes to me for advice.
Just because someone has it worse, it doesn’t make your pain less.
It always made me sad when someone would take their time to explain their pain to me, ask me for help, but then they felt the need to say something like, ‘I know that you have it worse’ or ‘I know that you get this all the time’. My pain does not mean that you don’t feel yours. My pain just helps me be able to understand yours.
Pain is hard to perceive. If you tell someone you’re in pain, they automatically think that it isn’t as bad as you make it out to be. This is especially so for women, for some messed up reason. Even doctors do this, so why would people or family be any different? Everyone is lazy according to most people, so you’re obviously faking the pain to get out of work.
This shows someone who has never suffered any long-term pain. I’d give anything to be able to hop out of bed right now and go tidy my kitchen. Or make myself some buttery toast and a cup of tea. However I can’t move my legs due to this pain. The blanket resting on them feels like it’s crushing my legs, but without it even a gentle breeze feels like somebody is stabbing ice spears into my joints.
The reason I’m typing this is to try to distract myself. To scream into that void that my pain is real. That I can’t change it. However, unlike the doctors tell me, I still can’t accept that it is my life to be in more and more pain each day.
For a first post this is rather sad, so I will add that I have love in my life! I managed to find happiness in the miasma of pain that is my life. My two shining stars are sometimes the only bright spots in a murky smog of defeat. I’m in a Polyamorous relationship with a Pansexual and a Bisexual. I myself am ♠Asexual. Aren’t we a fun, trendy throuple!
In all seriousness, though, they both accept my pain.
They never look at me like I’m exaggerating. They hold me when I scream. They stop me and restrain me on the nights when the pain is so bad that I try to smash my head into a wall or pull my hair out in clumps. They never judge me for it, never act exasperated, and always cuddle me after, even if they got no sleep because of my antics. They are my lights and they give me hope that I might be able to carve some semblance of a happy life during my time on this planet. They give me hope where I thought I did not deserve any.
They accept me at beyond my worst. I just wish I had a best to give them.