The day after my 26th birthday last week, I woke up and my back ever-so briefly locked up. Like I do with any new symptom, I sharply inhaled, froze and assessed the situation. But as soon as I noticed the pain, it disappeared, and I heaved a sigh and laughed at my brief panic.
Also like any funny little moment in my life, I told Facebook, teasing that it was "all downhill" from 26 years old. A few friends chimed in with comments like "You're still young" or "You're a baby."
As much as that may be true, most days, I don't quite feel 26. My husband jokingly put it like this the other day: "You may be 26 years old, but your body is a member of AARP."
|It's not too late to buy me this for my birthday.|
That's the funny thing about chronic pain conditions like endometriosis. On some days, I can do what I'm doing in the picture at the top of this post: climbing up rocks, walking around in the heat and enjoying my life the way it's meant to be lived in my 20's.
Other days, I have to sit in a chair to make dinner and take breaks in between loads of laundry.
Even other days, it's hard to stay awake for two consecutive hours. Or move. Or simply exist.
Again, this lends to the "invisibility" of invisible illnesses. I'm sure I've had acquaintances scroll through my social media posts, wondering how I could be in so much pain but still manage to do x, y and z.
The fact of the matter is that I don't live a day without at least some pain. I don't wake up with energy, and it's a rare day that I skip a nap. (Whether I mean to or not. I can literally sleep anywhere at any time.)
But for the most part, after more than 10 years of enduring this disease - the vast majority of it spent not knowing what was wrong - I've taught myself to be a person.
There's a great song by Ben Folds that's always connected with me called "Learn to Live with What You Are."
I'm not saying the effort is a waste of time - but I
Just love you for the things you couldn't changeThough you've triedThese hours of confusion they will soon expireLike everythingDoesThere's never gonna be a moment of truth for youWhile the world is watchingAll you need is the thing you've forgottenAnd that's to learn to live with what you are
The most challenging part of endometriosis hasn't been anything physical. It's been learning to accept that it's part of who I am now, and I'll never escape it. I have to live with it.
A lot of people talk about not allowing a disease or disability to "define" you. And that's a great thing. I don't want to limit myself before I try something because my body might choose to be a total asshat. (That's the best word I could think of to describe it, to be honest.)
But at the same time, I don't want to do myself a disservice by not recognizing that yes, I do have limits, and yes, everyone does, and no, I'm not a sham of a feelgood, carpe diem millennial™, just because I don't have it in me to travel everywhere, remain in constant motion or commit to 90 different things like I used to force myself to do.
As I'm sure I've said before, I'm always going to struggle with this. On most days, my body can't keep up with my mind and everything that I want to do but just can't. And I hate to say "I can't," as I've always been the type of person who wants to keep trying until she gets the hang of it. (Unless it's golf or drawing a picture of literally anything, then no, sorry, I tried.)
So maybe I am internally 66 years old. I mean, I do enjoy things like naps and being warm, and I recently got way too excited about the planner I bought. But I don't think I'm ashamed of that anymore (at least today). As long as I'm happy and living a life in which I find joy and fulfillment, which I do, then I'm who I am supposed to be.