So I’m sitting on my deck with my dogs getting ready to read either a 6 week old People magazine or a book my mom gave me that I have started but haven’t gotten farther than the 2nd chapter on, when I start thinking to myself, “I’m having a good day”. Which then led me to…I need to post about this, good days vs bad days.

Good days…

What is a good day?

I think the general consensus would be a day that is pain free. That would be a good day. And that would make sense, to anyone who doesn’t suffer from chronic pain. But those of us supremely lucky humans who go through every single day in varying degrees of pain and discomfort, a good day does not include being pain free.

A good day for me means that I have the energy and the mental fortitude to accomplish something. I am in pain every second of every day. I take medications for pain (one for the overall pain and inflammation and one for nerve pain), muscle spasms, anxiety, depression, and insomnia. When I have a good day, the pain levels are lower, the anxiety isn’t as high, the depression isn’t as low, and the muscle spasms are less frequent.

The problem with good days is that because you feel less like a useless blob of human, you try to accomplish every single thing on your to do list. Everything that your anxiety has been freaking out about not getting done…which triggers my good friend depression, who likes to remind you of how useless you are because you can’t get anxiety’s list taken care of. Which causes anxiety to come busting in like the Kool-aid man, then depression comes back. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.

So on the good days when anxiety and depression have taken themselves out for, hopefully, a day the need to deep clean the entire house, change the bed sheets, do the laundry, make food (you know the normal day to day tasks that most people take for granted), the deep seeded need to get all of these things kicks in because you don’t know when you will feel this good again.

Which brings us to…

Bad days.

What is a bad day?

A bad day is when you cannot get out of bed without using every stationary object within arm’s reach to hoist your skin sack out of bed. A bad day is when the pain is so bad that you will try anything to make it end.

Except yoga, essential oils, praying, and thinking positively…if those worked do you actually think that I would still be in this kind of pain?!

Do you really think that I haven’t tried yoga? I do yoga poses and physical therapy stretching every fucking day and guess what?! The pain is still here.

Essential oils and thinking positively don’t work. I got professional massages and body work done every 2 weeks for about 3 years. She used those oils while I was getting a massage and guess what?! The pain is still here. I thought positively for 15 years and all it got me was untreated depression and anxiety, and the need to gaslight myself. Telling myself that there are other people who have it worse than you so I should feel lucky. Humbling myself when people are astonished by the things I have endured by saying, “At least I’m still alive and didn’t lose my leg.”

NO!! My pain is valid! I have just as much of a right to be pissed off about my pain and the way it has affected my life as any other person in pain. YOUR PAIN IS VALID!! MY PAIN IS VALID!!

Praying. This one is a bit more difficult for me. I am a non-practicing Catholic but I absolutely believe there is a higher power. I believe that because I 100% should’ve died in my car accident. I survived for a reason. Either I was too stubborn to let go or the almighty celestial being, whatever you call him/her/they, has a plan for me. And while I think that’s great that I didn’t die, I am left with the question, why am I here?

This question comes up a lot on bad days.

Why did the almighty, powerful Oz (that’s how we’re going to refer to the celestial being so as to not offend anyone’s religious sensibilities) keep me here? What is my purpose in life since I survived?

Why am I still here if I am to endure daily pain? The neverending surgeries and procedures. The mental onslaught brought on the constant pain. Why am I forced to go through this? Why won’t it stop? I JUST WANT IT ALL TO STOP!! I WANT IT TO END!!

By this point you have taken probably close to max dosage of all your medications, you are in the fetal position writhing in pain, you snap at anyone who even looks at you because the mere presence of another living being in the immediate vicinity is enough to make things worse. There is crying, yelling, annoyance, frustration…

And all of this is taken out on your caretaker. Not that you want a caretaker but the reality of your situation is…you need one. Remember our old friend depression…you guessed it. Like Jack Nicholson through a bathroom door with an axe that bastard’s back. Then, if you’re lucky, you get some sleep. You apologize to anyone who’s head you removed in the past few hours, days, etc. You apologize for spewing pea soup all over everything Exorcist style and hope that you’re family/friends/catetaker/etc are understanding of how the pain changes you. That when you lash out in anger, frustration, or annoyance it’s not them that you are angry/frustrated/annoyed at…it’s yourself. It’s the pain.

It’s the constant, neverending reminder that your life will never be the same again. The life you had before the pain is gone. You are not even the same person anymore.

And when you lay down every night, you pray, or talk to whomever you believe is listening to those prayers or conversations, and you ask that tomorrow not be like the last.

You ask for a good day.

You plead and bargain saying things like “I won’t do what I did to cause a flare. I promise I will be smarter the next time. Please just make it stop. Please.”

So, on this good day I chose to do none of the things on that list, despite the beating my anxiety is giving me right now, and spend my time just relaxing in a deck chair.

I’m having a good day…

❤️, JD