What is the point?
What is the point of using up so many spoons on “good” days when the bad days are so bad that they put you back at the starting line? What is the point of waking up at the crack of dawn to push yourself through something when your painsomnia kept you up all night? What is the point of going to the park with your kid when all you can do is sit and watch – you can’t even push her on the swing? What is the point?
What is the point of trying to work – trying to support yourself – when you have to use every single vacation day you earn as a sick day? What is the point? What is the point of spending every extra penny you earned on alternative therapies and herbs and holistic treatments in desperation to ease your pain? What is the point of taking those meds that save your organs when all they do is make you feel sicker in the present? What is the point?
What is the point of showing up to your kids’ school event or sporting event when the other parents are looking you up and down – judging everything from the pajamas on your legs to the rash on your face to the bald patches of skin protruding from under the little bit of hair you have left on your head?
What is the point?
The point? The point is this. You just do it. You try. You keep going and you keep succeeding. You push through because you have to. You work your ass off on the “good” days because the stronger you can get your body, the better chance you have of surviving the bad days. The more we take care of our bodies when we can, the more equipped they are to fight this never-ending battle of illness we as spoonies endure. Some days pushing through involves getting up and moving as much as you can – prepping good foods that nourish your body, taking and refilling all your meds, laundering your clothes and your sheets to make everything just feel better, talking to a friend to calm your nerves and to get happy vibes up in your brain, exercising to care for your joints, your muscles, your bones. Some days pushing means pushing yourself to keep breathing, to keep fighting, to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you’re bedridden. Pushing is different each and every day for us, and that’s okay. We all wear our pain and our battles differently.
Continue to fight. Continue to rise. Continue to prove everyone around you wrong. Because you fucking deserve to.