"You're dying."
At twenty three, these weren't the words I was looking for. Two words. a thousand emotions and questions on the other side of them.
You would think my first emotion would be fear...not relief. That's ludicrous Jen, why on earth would that emotion even be in your vocabulary. Because that means it's real. Dying means I'm not crazy, I'm not dramatic, I'm not lazy. If the labs show I'm dying, finally, finally someone believes me, someone knows what's wrong.
You could say I've been more scared of being dubbed "lazy, dramatic, attention seeking and crazy" than of dying my whole life. And my first reaction to the two words, relief, would prove that. The relief that washed through my body almost brought me to tears. The long lonely nights, the never ending pain that seems to make a game of my misery, the constant fog of exhaustion, nausea, and black outs really were as bad as I thought they were. There was concrete evidence. My Body was attacking itself, my brain was slowly betraying me, and I was dying, what could be more real? more serious?
My Second reaction was fear. I've never gotten better, ever. With each doctor, each test, each diet, there was a resounding failure placed on me by the medical community. Because if I wasn't getting better then there could only be two options.
A. I wasn't trying hard enough
or
B. I simply wasn't sick
There was never the option in their mind for:
C. They just can't figure it out.
Myself? I would insesently bounce back and forth between A. and B. On the never-ending path of trying to decide if I was lazy or a lying, dramatic lunatic who has somehow concocted this made up illness in her head for fun. Yes because it's been SO much fun.
But if I was sick, why wasn't I getting better?
So now that I knew what was wrong, there were two options again.
Get better or die...
"Better" seemed too good to be true, too out there, too unattainable. God hadn't healed me ever so why would He start now? No, Dying seemed like the much more feasible option. I thought about it, felt the mixture of emotions that surrounded that word and found myself with a profound sense of hopelessness. I didn't want to die. But on the other hand, if I had the option to live with this forever (which was my only previous option) or die and feel no pain, I can't say that the latter wasn't longed for somedays.
This may be uncomfortable for you to hear.
It may be a topic you would rather not discuss. Maybe that's because you haven't been faced with the possibility of it hitting you in your face. I must admit, I wouldn't be mad at God if He had let me die, rather I would be profusely angry with Him if He allows me to live with this the rest of my life. I can fathom death. But when I think of this, this profound hell I wake to every morning, I wonder if I could come to terms with it, I really do.
But now I'm faced with another fear, one that still has me in the same chokehold it's held me in since I was twelve. Am I enough and do I measure up? Never have I ever gotten better. But now I may be. Some labs got better (some also got worse but that's not the point here). memory doesn't allude me as much, I can read like a real adult and comprehend it. I don't stumble around as often running into walls.
So now the striking fear I have is, what now? I've been sick my whole adult life and most of my teen years. I haven't worked in three years and I've never really known what I want to do with my life:
"So now what Do I do with my life?"
Now, twenty four, I can't help feel like I don't have a life to be proud of anymore. Was this God's only purpose for me, to be sick and then not? What do I do now? Am I even good at anything? and then the same old questions that have plagued me my whole life come flooding back:
"Am I lazy if I don't go back to school?"
"Have I wasted my life with a sickness I can't control?"
"Is God disappointed in how I've used this time?"
"Will I ever be ok with myself?"
So I cry out, waiting for an answer, asking Him to take this pain and fear and show me a better way. A way I don't think I've ever really known. Most days I feel like I can barely stand But if He's everything He says He is, I know He'll come close and hold my heart.
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