It took me a long time to admit that I have chronic pain. Pain that doesn't end. Pain that is a constant companion. Pain that masks new injuries, unless they themselves are more painful than the background noise.
But now that I acknowledge its existence I am learning better how to live with it. For example, I spent last weekend resting. After injuring my hands I knew I would need to take it easy, but then was laid flat by a headache. Two days of nursing my needs for rest left me exhausted, but feeling emotionally okay and ready to face the week.
Then I encountered the poem, Broken, by Angelika Byczkowski, who also lives with EDS.
It helps to know that, when living with a hidden illness and battling chronic pain, we are not alone. We can be strong, even when we weep. We can reach out and find others who do understand.
But now that I acknowledge its existence I am learning better how to live with it. For example, I spent last weekend resting. After injuring my hands I knew I would need to take it easy, but then was laid flat by a headache. Two days of nursing my needs for rest left me exhausted, but feeling emotionally okay and ready to face the week.
Then I encountered the poem, Broken, by Angelika Byczkowski, who also lives with EDS.
It helps to know that, when living with a hidden illness and battling chronic pain, we are not alone. We can be strong, even when we weep. We can reach out and find others who do understand.
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