Pain. My invisible companion. Pain is always with me. He’s either ever-present at the forefront of my consciousness, blocking my ability to see, hear or feel much of anything else, or he is lurking in the shadows, waiting to return at full strength and ruin the rest of my day.
Pain. My invisible taunter. Pain is a trickster. He likes to mess with my mind. Sometimes, all of a sudden I’ll become aware that my pain isn’t so bad at that moment. I get excited. This is great. I’m feeling better today. Pain likes to lure me into a sense of excitement and hope, only to rush back in at full strength, spiking my pain high and sapping my energy. The mental list of things I want to do while I’m feeling better is gone. My day is lost to a sea of pain again.
Pain. My invisible enemy. I wage a mental battle against Pain every single day. I usually lose more ground to Pain than I gain, but I keep fighting. I can’t let Pain win. That is not an acceptable outcome. So we keep up our invisible struggle for one of us to gain more control over my body than the other. Every time I learn a new technique to battle Pain with, he comes up with a new way to hurt me back. So we continue our battle.
Pain. My inexhaustible companion. Pain never tires. Pain never sleeps. He’s always alert and ready for battle, ready to hurt me. I, on the other hand, do not have a vast pool of energy I can tap into. I am tired and worn down. I hurt. I sleep — sometimes. I never get enough rest. He does not know what it’s like to be tired, while I have forgotten what it feels like to be full of energy.
Pain. My enemy but part of me. I battle Pain every day, but Pain has also become a part of me. Pain is a part of who I am now, of what defines me. I accept Pain, and yet I don’t. I want to defeat Pain. I want to be cured. And yet, chronic pain has become an element of who I am now. Pain has changed me. Pain has changed the way I think, the way I act, what I do. Pain has rewired my brain. I can’t even think the same way as I used to thanks to Pain. My brain works differently now. I long and dream of a cure and yet wonder once a cure comes — and I believe it will one day — what will I be like then? I won’t be who I was before Pain. I won’t be who I am now. I hope that I’ll be better. I know I will be stronger for having gone through this. If Pain can’t defeat me, then nothing can.
Pain. My invisible companion. We’ll keep up our struggle for dominance for now. One day, Pain will lose. I will win. Nothing else is acceptable. Until the day I am pain-free, I will keep fighting my Pain.