I’ve written this post, my first blog post, a few times now because I am not exactly sure where to begin. So many things have happened to me this year, the past few months even. There are a number of things I have to say, to explain, to update you on, and bring awareness to. If you’re reading this I imagine you either know me, or knew me, you’re curious, or you’re looking for someone to relate to.

Whoever you are, I want you to know that I will do my best to keep writing, to be as transparent as I know how, to do my best to explain what is happening or what has happened, how it feels and how I am doing. And most importantly keep the faith.

I want you to know how much I have been praying about this blog. It’s not something I have taken lightly. It’s a big step for me to share what I write about my health and how being in chronic pain impacts my life everyday.

It’s been a little over a year since I shared my story through a movement call 7 Billion Ones. The feeling of writing it was freeing, but the feeling of it being shared online was invigorating. The response after my story was posted was remarkable, and it’s led me here, to this.

It’s been almost seven months since I woke up with such severe joint pain that I couldn’t walk without falling to the ground in tears. A few days before I felt it coming, it had been almost two months since I started having weird knee pain. It was right after Christmas and I was in the airport with my dad when I realized my knees were acting up. I honestly didn’t think much of it because I had knee surgery over six years ago and was told my other knee would probably need it too. From that moment of me trying to keep up with my dad walking through terminals in the Dallas airport, the weird knee pain kept on. It was strange, but I didn’t really think much of it. Not until my ankles started hurting and walking up the stairs became a marathon and the word “ow” popped up in my mind at least 50 times a day. I laughed it off making jokes about how I didn’t know when I had my 21^st birthday I was really turning 89. Meanwhile in the back of my mind I knew something was wrong but I was trained not to pay attention to the back of my mind, I was rewired to ignore pain, and now I have a hard time gauging my symptoms and pain. Is this really something or did I forget an injury? Do I have a digestion problem or am I just paranoid? Is this real or is this all in my head?

So the weird knee and ankle pain led me to hobbling around on a crutch with severe joint and bone pain all over my body. Not just on my knees and ankles but my hips, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hands, and feet. Then it led me to multiple kinds of physical therapy, the main one being pool therapy, which I could have never imagined being in. I was in the warm water pool with the people who have arthritis, the 80-somethings who are on walkers, who have kids and their kids have kids, and then there was me. The twenty something girl who has bags filled with unanswered questions and who once could hide her illness with a smile but all of a sudden was seen by everyone because she carried a crutch. I began bonding with elderly people at the gym and at physical therapy. There was one woman who was 81 and had recently had a double knee replacement who was laying next to me doing the same exercise. It was an exercise where you lift and lower your leg, something so basic, yet unnecessarily hard making me feel like my body and my youth were robbed from me.

I’ve been off my crutch for about two months now. No doctor gave me a time table of when I would be off or when I was allowed to get off because there was no actual injury, just all consuming pain. It honestly still feels impossible to walk most days but I decided that I would rather feel the pain than to deal with a crutch for even one more day. Dealing with my crutch made people see my pain, it allowed strangers to ask me about my health and what was wrong, and it made me hide because I was so incredibly embarrassed. I’m not so embarrassed these days, but everyday brings something new and another challenge.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever stop wondering what is wrong with my body, if my future is this awkward stage where I should be fully emerged in college surrounded by people my own age doing what people in their early twenties do, but instead I’ve been spending my time trying to take classes while juggling physical therapy and all the doctors visits each week. Before this last flare up I honestly thought things were looking up, and I think now is the first time since my health madness started that things aren’t okay and I still believe they’re looking up. That is huge for me. After all of the downers in the last few years all I’ve ever wanted was hope and hope that lasts. I’ve been so exhausted that sometimes there’s no energy left to try and be faithful and have hope that this will pass. I know all of this is leading me somewhere and my faith is far from perfect but I have hope, and that’s all I’ve ever needed.

Psalm 31:1-2 (CEV)

“I come to you, Lord, for protection.

Don’t let me be ashamed.

Do as you have promised and rescue me.

Listen to my prayer and hurry to save me.

Be my mighty rock and the fortress where I am safe.”

If you want to listen to the songs I was listening to when I wrote this click here.