Journal Entry #1 - November 26, 2014

November 26, 2014

I’m only journaling because my therapist believes that it will help me feel some emotion.

Emotions scare me.

If I FEEL, I may not be able to stop. How am I going to live if I can’t stop feeling terrible (not only physically, but mentally). I’ve been to that place before. It wasn’t pretty. I lost almost everything.

I’ve accepted the fact that I am never going to be who I wanted to be. It sucks.

But what am I going to do? Cry all the time? NO. I am not going to be that girl. I can’t be. I have to worry about my children. I don’t want them to see me as weak. I want them to see that even with the pain that I deal with everyday, I still function. I function shitty, but I function. I get up, I go to work, I deal. It may not be the best dealing in the world, but it is dealing, nonetheless.

I want more. I want to be the wonderful wife and mother I have always wanted to be. But if I let myself get upset because I can’t be those things, where does it stop?

How far will it go? Will I end up in the nuthouse? Because I feel like I could go there and never come out. They wouldn’t let me out if they knew all of the thoughts that go through my head. I don’t have time for the nuthouse.

I don’t have time for emotions because they will not go away if I let them come.

Sometimes, like right now, I want to kick myself for not letting them dope me up.

Some mornings, like this morning, I want to kick myself for not just giving up and getting disability. Getting up and going to work is hard for a normal person (let alone a person in constant pain).

“One day, this pain is all going to go away.” Its a thought that I wish would make sense to me. I wish it was applicable in my case. But it isn’t. This nightmare will never end for me and I can’t image that I will ever get used to it. Its not something that someone CAN get used to.

My real hopes for my life are:

• That I learn to cope with the pain more and more everyday.
• That my family will realize that this is not some made up condition and that I am NOT a hypochondriac like my great-great-grandmother was.
• That my children will see me as a strong woman and not the weak, frustrated, girl I see in the mirror.
• That my husband will stick around in a sex-starved, miserable marriage with a woman who really does love him more than life, yet still, somehow, be as happy as I want him to be.
• That I will continue to force myself to get up and go to work at a job that I absolutely adore. That I will remain the best at what I do and only get better.
• That my friends will still be my friends through the missed calls, ignored text messages, skipped birthday parties and cancelled meetings.

Those hopes, though ridiculous and very unlikely, are what keeps me holding on. They’re why I force myself to get up, get ready and go to work everyday. They’re why I refuse the hard pain meds. They’re why I try my hardest to be there for my friends and family when I get the rare moments of a level 6 pain. They’re why I keep myself from feeling the emotions that scare me (the emotions that would put me in the nuthouse).

One day, this is all going to make sense. I have to start telling myself that I am a warrior and even though I feel defeated, I am still fighting. I can do this. I AM doing this.