Processing pain

Recently, in conversation with friends, I’ve been at my wits end trying to explain how I’ve been processing pain. My RA has decided to up the ante where pain is concerned. Things have got more difficult. Just when I thought I maybe had a handle on things, it showed me up! So not cool!

There are a whole set of things that have changed for me. Getting dressed is such hard work. In total, it took me 2.5 hours to properly dress myself on a day when the pain was at its highest. I had to stop and rest in between, which shows in the time taken. I was dripping in sweat, because of the effort it took. Again – so uncool. It’s not a good look. I did have a moment of the giggles in the middle of all this as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Hair plastered to my head from the sweating, giving me the ultimately perfected wet rat look. That did crack me up. I was relieved for the laughter as it certainly beat the tears. It was such hard work getting into home clothes – nothing special or elaborate. A whole new set of circumstances, filled with many flashback memory triggers as I recalled episodes my mum had dressing herself and things I did to try and help. I’ve got a range of emotion running through me here. 

Doing stuff has just got harder too. I do find myself wishing for the ever wise, incomprehensibly efficient Jeeves. I wouldn’t have to plan so hard to be as strategic as I possibly can to give myself less pain. It would be doable. Coffee and toast may be enjoyable at a decent temperature. It’s usually cold by the time I’m ready to consume them after the battle I’ve gone through to prep. I no longer move about efficiently in my own kitchen. Many grandiose ideas of cooking a meal for me and dad die at birth. So uncool. Doing my office work has just got harder. It’s like my mind is ready to shut down and sleep. The pressure I feel to be professional is overwhelming. I sound exhausted, I feel a fog encompassing my thoughts. I battle this with coffee as the caffeine helps. If only it were that simple making a coffee. So uncool! 

In the midst of all this, I get a whole drudge of unhelpful advice. “Don’t think about it,” the unhelpful voice says. I wonder if they’d be able to successfully ignore the burning pain within each joint In their body when they moved. I’d love to know how to ignore that! I’d love to know how to not think about it when my movement involuntarily causes me to tear because of pain. My mind envisions a moment where I am like Captain America, delivering a lesson to these unhelpful muppets with a couple of quick smacks and kicks thrown in. A few more chuckles. I am thankful for these. 

Lying down and sleeping are hard to do. It’s hard to get comfortable. I can’t lie on either shoulder at the moment. My joints decide to show up at bed time. My knees feel like they’re locked and when I try to move them, my ankles grind away to remind me not to put pressure on them. My elbows seem to want in on the action and refuse to straighten, while my wrists and knuckles seem to be twisting in weird directions. At points, it feels like my joints are beatboxing. That thought makes me laugh too. Not for long though. Beat boxes are cool. This is so uncool. By the time I start falling asleep, it’s usually about 4 in the morning. By this time, sheer exhaustion has kicked in. My mind has had some conversation with Jesus. I’m telling Him that He’s going to be in for it if He doesn’t let me sleep. I tell Him it’s going to be a long night. And that makes me laugh too coz He and I don’t experience time the same way, do we? I start drifting off finally, only to have my alarm ring in what feels like 5 minutes later. At this stage, I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus. Now the whole thing starts again. So uncool.

In the midst of this, I’m so thankful for those steady friends who keep the communications up. I’m so grateful for the assurances of prayer and Bible verses sent to me. That’s a big push in the daily battle cry I make because I am being supported by prayer. I am so thankful to the ones who faithfully send me stuff to make me laugh, or to include me in life: photos or videos of things that I’m not able to witness or do alongside them are so uplifting. I love the updates on various other things that are happening to them in the middle of all this, because it’s engaging, and different. Simply inclusive. I thank God for all of these ones. They are so cool. 

Processing these changes hasn’t been easy. I know Jesus has power. I know He can heal all. Coming to a place where I can say with no amount of cynicism that He is good, even when the rest of my body isn’t feeling good, hasn’t been easy. I saw my mum go through this. So I have a glimpse of what the future holds for me here on earth. Hence, Jesus’ healing powers would be most welcome. Whilst that negotiation is ongoing, and yes – I call all my petitions negotiations because I don’t stop asking when there’s a no, I am conscious of what else He’s showing me. Many years ago, when I expressed sorrow for her situation, my mum said how if it hadn’t been precisely for her situation, she wouldn’t see Jesus the way she did. I did not understand at that time. I do now. Almost as soon as I wrote that I laugh out- what a slow learner I must be! Mum was so right. Every moment, every situation in my life has been ordained by God. Ultimately, Jesus wants me to rest completely in Him. I can see that He’s stripping away the independence that I’ve been so fiercely protective of as well as the abilities that I have been so happy to call upon. It’s not being done cruelly. I still am independent. He’s given me that. But He’s showing me the need I have for Him 24/7. He’s given me a need for Him that wouldn’t be there otherwise. He’s not taken away all my abilities. Granted, it takes me ages to get do things, but He has granted me creativity and given me a lot of help. Heaps of help, through some very loving souls placed in my life. It’s hard to explain, and the credit doesn’t go to me, but it is Him making me consciously live out less of me and more of Him. He is there every step of the way. The thing is, it is very liberating too. When I let go of my independence or abilities, I tap into His. It’s so freeing as it comes in so many different ways. He puts people in my life, enables conversations, gives me help and support through them, builds me up mentally and emotionally through His Word, that despite my illness, I’m never in a position to say that I’m in want, for I’m not. My mum tried to explain this to me so long ago. I was too full of my own independence and loving my own abilities, that I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t understand. 

I am writing this especially to my brothers and sisters in Christ. Do not despair for me. And if your circumstances are crushing you, may this encourage you. Look for Him and you will find. It will not mean that the circumstance itself goes away, so it may not be that healing, financial relief, answered prayer for a partner or a child or something else. It may not be a better job or craved acceptance socially. It may not be what you want. It will be what you need. It will be Jesus. It is very cool.