On Being Painfully Alive...

The last year has been a painful one. I never really anticipated physical pain as part of my story. It's not that I was under the impression that I could escape pain, I'm aware that it's part of the human experience. It's just that my history has been made up of emotional pains, and I foolishly assumed that the same would hold true for my future.

I told myself, "Well of course childbirth would be painful. Getting old, that seems to involve pain too. I'll take care of myself though, I'll stay active and eat well. Why would I ever experience great physical pain?" I'm reminded of the saying, "If you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans." Perhaps this is applicable here.

August 11th of last year, I started to feel sick while working out. I quit early, drank some water and went on with my day. The nausea wore off, but the headache never did. Now more than a year later, I'm aware of a lot more symptoms than the headache that has become a constant in my life. As my physical state has cycled through various stages, so has my mental view of the situation. Chronic pain does interesting things to you mentally, to the point that depression is considered a comorbid condition.

I find myself now in a state of anticipation. I'm hopeful about physical improvement, but even more than that I feel like I am mentally turning over rocks, looking for the hints of purpose. I'm clinging to my faith, to the statement that ALL things work together for the good. It feels as though a glimmer of purpose would revive my drive & hope in this situation. I've already discovered a few areas in which I directly see Him working through the pain.

I'm learning (not to be mistaken for "I've learned") how to rest. I wouldn't have thought of this as a good thing previously--after all, life demands that you continue at a eyes-watering-and-squinting pace to get anywhere at all it seems. I thought I knew how to rest... I took time off, I did nothing, I had fun with friends--isn't that resting? I'm now in the process of taking "rest" to an entirely new level. I'm working on listening to my body and quitting before exhaustion kicks in. Honestly, it's annoying. I hate it. I have the feeling that recovery for me will require I grow to understand and love it.

Abandon. This is the word I heard from God at a spiritual retreat I helped with and attended for the HS students at our church earlier this year. I'm finding it applicable to more and more of my life as the months go on. Letting go, with a complete absense of thought for whatever it was you let go of. I realize I've been "working" on this for a really long time. I suppose it's probably going to my life long journey with God. "Let go and let God." ?? I want to kick myself when I consider the possibility that my physical state was required due to my refusal to address this more seriously.

So here I am, alive, in pain... and feeling more and more okay with that. It's an interesting process, to let go of all of my expectations. There are so many things that I have demanded of myself--perfection in all areas is attainable, if only you'll give it your best--and while I mourn the death of any possibility that I will reach my ideals, I also find it freeing and, well, restful.