I’ve been stuck on what to write lately. I have a lot going on with my health. So I decided to write about why pain puts you in a mental rut and how this affects my ability to write.
When pain controls your day to day, you tend to loose yourself. You’re here but not here. It’s like the pain is all that speaks. So much being said, many many messages going to and from the brain. All the engine lights are on and flashing and you are the only mechanic.🔧🤕
Imagine insurance and doctors controlling every aspect of you’re treatment. What’s approved, what’s not approved, what’s covered, what’s not. Doctors…”I can cure everything or you’re faking everything.” Pushing random things on you and with no explanation. It’s a lot. How does a mechanic fix the vessel if manufacturers are only supplying certain parts or they won’t cover those parts? How does a mechanic fix the vessel if the mechanic shop owner won’t even order the part or provide the tools to fix it? That’s like being Ill and disabled. You can’t even help yourself because most doctors and all insurance companies won’t cooperate, or they brush you off not providing the proper medical care you need to get your own vessel running better. So you’re stuck.
As the Mechanic I’m forced to diy it. To learn on my own, log, monitor, research, network, makeshift it. I am forced to find my own answers. All in the midst of debilitating pain, just to relieve said pain and then be made out as a hypochondriac. The Mechanic is doing what she can with what she has. Alone. When I finally make some strides, get a lead like Sherlock Holmes, I’m gaslit and made to feel like I’m inferior and shouldn’t know what I’m doing with my own vessel.
It’s mentally taxing to say the least. Pain moves among you, within you, as it desires and you’re chained to it like a voodoo doll. Feeling everything it wants you to, when it wants you to. My brain is on overdrive and it’s tired, all of my ailments are wanting to be seen, heard and fixed. My brain at times can’t keep up. Each issue flashing and beckoning me, light flashing after light flashing. I am my only help, my only chance, my only option, my only advocate. Me.
So if you don’t have any invisible illnesses, you are not disabled in any way..can you just imagine for one moment that you have a vessel that doesn’t work. A vessel that continues to break down and you cannot return it or exchange it. That’s you’re only vessel for life, don’t you think you’d get tired of dealing with it. Fixing it. It, in a sense “failing you”. A Lemon of a Body per say. Imagine it. Remember people actually do live with a Lemon of a Body. Any human could at any point too. It’s taxing in absolutely all aspects of life.
So back to my original statement, all of my lights are flashing and it affects my ability to write. I can’t say I’m sorry because it’s not something I should be sorry for, but I can say..not producing and writing weekly like I’d like to be able to do again..does make me feel bad, less than…a failure. And while you may or may not enjoy my blogs, just know that I put a lot of energy, work and pain into sharing my story when I can. This mental rut sucks and I’m doing what I can to work through it. Chronic illness ebbs and flows and I’m just going with the flow.❤️🥰