Because Sometimes When it Rains, It Pours

I’ve been working on this blog post for a long time.  It has been written and re-written, but I was just never satisfied with it; I felt like I wasn’t really articulating how I was feeling.  Then I realized why.  In my attempt to color my recent surgery and chronic back pain as a blessing in disguise (which, admittedly, I really believed it was for about the first six months), it’s like I didn’t want to acknowledge that maybe what I was really feeling weren’t things most people want to hear, and even more, weren’t things I wanted to hear.

I so badly wanted to write that the surgery I had would be worth it; that I would miraculously be cured of the back pain that had become limiting in so many aspects of my life, and I even tried to write a whole blog post saying that’s what happened.  But it didn’t.

For over a year I’ve been dealing with chronic low back and leg pain that has kept me from doing so many of the things I love.  I stopped running, stopped going to movies, and on certain occasions even isolated myself from my friends because I was in too much pain to do things with them.

I searched for the magic cure, I tried everything, even a huge surgery that I was thoroughly convinced would work.  But here I sit today struggling with the same symptoms I had before the surgery, trying to rationalize that I made the right decisions, that even though it seems as if the surgery may not have worked, I did everything within my power to be the active, 20-something person I was before all of this.

Since the recurrence of my symptoms, I’ve found myself in a seemingly perpetual state of anxiety and stress.  I blame myself for not doing enough research, for possibly missing a key piece to the puzzle, and for subjecting myself willingly to a fairly invasive surgery.  I wake up most days and want to kick myself for my stupidity, but instead I carry on, pretending towards most people like I’m fine.  Which is okay.  Kind of.  Until you begin to internalize all the awful things you’ve said to yourself and truly start to believe that what you’re feeling isn’t rational.  But you know what?  It is.

So today I acknowledge that I’m struggling.  That it’s okay to ask “Why me?” on occasion.  And that feeling defeated, angry, and frustrated are all acceptable emotions to experience.  Maybe it’s being able to acknowledge these feelings that allows us to heal and move on.  And maybe it’s being able to acknowledge these feelings that finally does allow us to say that our struggles and trials are a blessing in disguise.

I don’t believe we’re ever given more than we can handle, and I do believe that our struggles can make us stronger, better people; but not if we can’t go through the necessary stages of grief, ultimately to come to acceptance, and maybe even appreciation.

It’s possible that some people would look at my situation and think, “Come on, back pain?  That’s not a big deal at all.”  And I’m okay with people thinking that, because ultimately our perception - not others’ perceptions - of our trials is what matters the most.  Right now I may not appreciate everything I’ve been through, but I hope that in some way, finally expressing – and to a certain extent validating – that it’s okay to struggle, will help me in my healing, even if it’s not on a physical level.  I want to look back on this experience and feel that it has been a blessing.  I want to be truly happy in all aspects of my life.  Because after all, I think Gordon B. Hinckley had it right when he said, “Life is to be enjoyed, not just endured."