My life is a giant shit storm right now. I haven’t written lately because facing these painful realities are sometimes more painful than the CRPS itself. This evening I decided to face my monsters and put on a suit of courage. I have to write to process what is happening with the destruction of my so-called life, as it makes no logical sense. My posts are always personal but this one is a little deeper, a raw look into the shambles of my life. I made the vow to keep my blog open and honest about life and I know if I am feeling this way, then there is a good chance there are some other folks in the world who are going through similar battles. I have come to the determination that life is messy. I won’t always have happy posts but I promise they will be real.
Earlier this evening
I stood outside this evening, my head tilted up towards the clouds as the sun set. I admired the pretty pink and orange colors as they swirled in the sky. I longed to have a bigger sky view from my duplex in town but was still grateful to catch the last of the colors as the sky darkened. I played with the dogs for a few minutes before my body began to burn like it was on fire. It always catches me off guard although it is a daily part of my life these days. It feels like a ton of bricks slamming into my body as the pain radiates through my legs and causes my face to wince in pain.
I opened my eyes again and looked around me. This time I could not see the pretty colors of the sunset or feel the gratitude that I have been trying to forcefully practice as my life crumbles before me. This time I only saw abandonment. The well-manicured yard was now a jungle, with the tall grass scraping against my sensitive calves. The garden was now dried up and dead and my car sat alone in the driveway.
I was angry. The type of anger that builds up inside with force. I clinched my fists and allowed myself the space to cry in order for some of the hurt to escape my soul. He had left. The person that I loved and thought I would spend the rest of my tomorrows with had abandoned me during the most difficult time of my life. I was here alone; in a house that we once shared and had built a life together. The overgrown grass reminded me he was gone and my broken body reminded me that I was unable to take care of these things. Hate filled my veins as the tears continued and I wiped them from my face with my palm.
He had been the first person in my life that I allowed to help me, like really help me, wash my hair in the hospital kind of helping. He was the nicest person I had ever met and had a heart full of gold. He met me during those first few months of being diagnosed and set himself as a rock, as my life turned upside down with painful treatments, grief, losing mobility and endless nights of soul crushing pain. I told him from the beginning, this would be hard that he wouldn’t want to be with me, with someone who was so sick. He told me loved me and he would never leave. He amazed my friends as he got up with me every morning and helped me continue to hold on to my career by making my meals and warming up my car in the winter months. He met me in the driveway every night after my long commute to help my tired and pained body out of the car and inside. He took care of me like he was some sort of super hero and I constantly thought of ways to repay my love and admiration because I was too ill to share the household responsibilities. I know that because of his love and support I was able to get through those difficult transitions as my CRPS progressed. At the end of every day I was thankful for this relationship and for him by my side. I really truly believed that he was my happily ever after.
But unfortunately, life is not a fairy tale and I found it could be fatal to believe in the myth of happily ever after anymore. Our relationship was hard. The disease put a stain on every aspect and even though I loved him more than any other person, my love was not enough to save us and we fell apart. He began to resent the help that I needed and how much I had to rely on him at times. Being a therapist I know that communication is the biggest factor in a relationship but it was also hard. I myself, wasn’t even communicating realistically to myself most days.
Trying to communicate when your body feels like you are burning alive is impossible. Trying to show patience when you aren’t sleeping and hurt constantly is unrealistic. Looking back on the last few weeks, I can see that we needed a time out, we needed a break. Not necessarily from each other but from the disease itself and the lifestyle it created. And maybe it wouldn’t have been enough. Maybe it is just too much stress on one person when the other is at their lowest physical point, losing mobility and their career at a rapid pace. But even saying all that doesn’t make the pain of today, the heart break of this moment feel any better or deserved as form of logic.
No, it just feels empty. The endings of a relationship are always hard. They are always a time of sadness and grief but when you are ill, it is particularly difficult because you feel like it is hard to make anything work because you no longer have control. You are a victim to a chronic and in my case a progressive disease. I can’t even imagine, being the other person, watching the person you love, change and lose the things they love the most when you can’t do anything about it. But still, how does that love just end? And when it does end, why does the hurting each other continue?
How does someone just leave? How does someone who loves you, leave you in your most difficult moment? Why was he causing so much hurt to me? Didn’t it matter that I was sick? Didn’t it matter that I had spent the last week admitted to the Hospital over almost 2 hours away from home? How could someone who showed up as your knight in shining armor, providing protection, support and unconditional love just give up?
I spent last week alone in the hospital as I underwent my 5th ketamine infusion. Isolated in my hospital room, unable to move around and unable to think about the reality of my relationship with the man I loved. Sure, break ups are hard but it is unimaginably difficult when you are too sick to pick up the pieces and build your life back. I felt like Humpty Dumpty. Broken.
The old Kelly was independent and strong. She could tackle the impossible and then ask for more. But disease, pain and hardships have left me in shambles. Too sick to return to work after my last ketamine infusion and ending up in the Emergency Room because of complications of a removal of my PICC line.
I am trying to stay busy, trying to distract myself but I am too sick for the distraction. I am too sick to be busy.
I want to mow the lawn. I want to clean the house, top to bottom in that vicious movement that comes from difficult breakups. I wanted to call my friends and drink tequila. I wanted to get drunk and dance through the night without a care in the world. But I couldn’t even lift my arm to put my hair in a ponytail. My body won’t tolerate even a glass of wine right now and forget dancing, when I had to use my wheelchair for most of the day yesterday. Hell, I even got stuck in my sports bra. How is that for a warrior?
My body is tired and my heart and soul are broken.
I lost the most significant part of my life. Was it because I was sick? How could I ever date again when I didn’t have the ability to even get through the grocery store? Seeing the future is difficult as crisis of passive aggressive acts, as after effects of the breakup continue and things like my career remain waiting for me to have strength to return. Hell, my car even broke down yesterday, at Advanced Auto while I was getting a new battery installed and I had to have the typically trust worthy car towed to a mechanic.
I’m not sure when the blows will stop but I am beyond exhaustion and my body needs rest in order to make the best of this last infusion. In order to heal.
If the universe could allow me to pass go and collect $200 I would greatly appreciate any good that could be sent my way.
I know I will survive this battle and I know in the end I will be okay. But damn it, this is just too much. I try never to get on a rant of the unfairness of my life, of my disease and of loses but just for tonight, I want to be angry. I want to be sad. And in writing this I realize that it is OKAY to be those things for now. Maybe I need to be mad. Maybe I need to cry through the weekend to build a life again. So that’s what I will do. I will allow myself the space I need to be whatever it is that comes up. I also will allow myself the space for my body to heal. And above all, I have to commit to some ultra loving kindness to myself. After all, she has been through a lot and deserves some love.
If you are reading this and are going through a similar battle; know that your own resolution for peace is not impossible. And you are not alone. You are never alone.