I woke up at 3am, body aching and just wanting relief. It was the pain that woke me up, and I was very tired of it. For a few days in a row I had been waking up between 2 & 3 AM in so much pain that I could barely turn over.
I have always wondered what it was like to be in chronic pain. What I have found is that more often than not is that it's more of a battle of my mind than my body. I have to fight the urge to stay in bed, or return to bed. I have to fight the urge to cancel plans. I have to fight the urge to just give up some days. There have been a lot of days and moments filled with tears, where my mind ends up winning.
The thing that has been the hardest about these last two years is all of the the wrong diagnosis'. Being told that you have one thing after another, after another. Being told, "Do this" or "take this" and "you will feel better" but "if you don't, come back in a month..." or "three months". Getting told that you have anxiety, no... it's GERD. No.... it's food allergies... oh, you just passed out from dehydration. Maybe you have leaky gut?
It's hard to not give up on doctors, throw your hands up in the air and walk away. It's hard to have to fight to have tests done. To fight and try and explain whats happening in your body, when you yourself don't even understand it. It's hard being your own advocate and fighting for answers when often times you feel like you're fighting for your life.
I remember telling a friend that sometimes it just seems like my body is shutting down. Almost like I could die in just a few minutes or hours. I remember telling another friend that a good day to me is how most people feel at 25%. That to have a good day is to actually shower, look presentable, get out and get at least one thing accomplished.
After a long day, or a busy week, it's all that I can do to pull myself together, and keep going. It takes energy to shower, to get ready, to run errands, to lead worship, to do the things that I love the most. It's all that I can do to get out there and do the things that I love. This is a hard reality, but right now, it's my reality. I want to beat this... but I also know that there might not be and "beating this" but instead just maintaining it. That.... is a hard thing to swallow.
I feel like I'm in the process of grieving and trying not to give up hope because without hope, I know that in a split second, I would fall apart. This process has been the hardest and most exhausting fight of my life.
But this is not where it ends. This is not my whole story. My story is true to my name and as I write this I can't help think about that - Hope. There is a reason God laid that name on my parents hearts so many years ago. There is a reason that God gave me that name, that He hand picked it just for me, and I can honestly say that in the midst of some of my lowest moments, I can't help but think about that; hope.
I long for healing, and there is hope in the longing. I hope that one day I will be healed. I hope that I won't keep losing hair, and I hope that they will find out what is wrecking havoc on my body and be able to fix it. But hope isn't about simply fixing "things" but about fixing our eyes on Christ and the hope that is found in Him and Him alone. Fixing our eyes on the promises of who He is and all that He is doing - even in the struggle and momentary pain. That's just what it is - momentary.
So tonight, as I cry, I won't cry alone but instead will cry out to the Maker of all things. I will cry out, and He will draw near. I will cry out in hope, in longing, with expectation and anticipation that He will heal me .... if not on earth, than in Heaven.
