The End of a Chapter

I recently completed the last page of a journal I’ve had since my illness began in 2015. 

I realize this is a long time to be writing in the same journal, but I tend to write more on my Mac these days, and use my journal as more of a  “quote collector”. It’s also always on call for desperate moments, when I would rather use a pen and scribble my emotions than type them.  

If you read My Interstitial Cystitis Story, then you know my first year was full of those desperate moments, which meant completing the journal threw me into barrage of confusing emotions. 

I’m thrilled 2015 is behind me, and yet, I’m not. 

From time to time, I realize I am still angry I had to go through it at all.  I look back at pictures of my youngest, only six months, when symptoms started, and I remember how sad I was.  

I actually remember taking the picture below.  It was a rough symptom day, but I was doing my best to stay in the moment, to be present, and yet..

I felt like I was failing her, like I was missing out on the joy because I couldn’t break out of the pain.

I felt alone and forsaken, and friends, sometimes, this still makes me sad.

I want to go back and tell myself it will all be ok.  I want to tell her this isn’t the end of her story – she’s not alone – she’s valuable and treasured.

The truth is, every time I write about my disease, particularly when I write about the beginning, or talk to anyone currently in pain, I meet the same demons I met all those years ago.  But they say facing them is good, right? Every time it gets a little easier.

You have to be your own hero

And so, there’s all the selfish feelings which go into contemplating the pain of the past, but there’s also the hurt, knowing so many of you reading this just received your diagnosis. 

Or you’re years into your pain and you haven’t found your relief.  Your journal is still being scribbled upon. 

I wish I could tell you why.

I want to come back and be your hero, but what I’m realizing is I only have the ability to teach you how to become your own hero.

I can’t fix you.  I wish I could.  I couldn’t even fix myself.  All I can do is tell you I healed before my symptoms went away.

It wasn’t because I tried a magic diet.  It wasn’t because I swallowed a magic pill.

It was when I took the time to finally get to know the girl who was hiding under the blankets, under the pain, and under the facade and let her lean on a God greater than all of it.

I started letting her speak and she told me stories about something greater than pain.  I had kept her quiet for so long, trying to be something false, and when I gave her permission to be, to write, and to experience this life:

all the vastness and the smallness, the simplicity, the complexity, the beauty and the unexplainable moment when you feel your body hum with the sound of the ocean – it was then that she showed me this was only the beginning of something good, not the end of something terrible.

From The Mouths of Babes

We just spent a week on the beach with my husband’s sister and her family.  Her son isn’t even two and he repeats exact phrases from movies and books.  He’s someone you’re going to want at trivia night, trust me.

My favorite of Max’s lines was one from Robin Hood.  Throughout the week, I would hear his tiny little voice singing, “All’s Well – All’s Well”, and it took everything in me not to cry.  It was perfection.

I’m not trying to say I understand your pain.  I’m not downplaying it or telling you you’re doing a terrible job.  I know how hard it is to live when you are living in pain. I’m just saying, there’s a place within you, where all’s well. 

There’s a version of yourself waiting to be unearthed, and it’s somewhere your illness is not granted access. 

I think it’s time to meet him.  I think it’s time to let her speak.  You just have to start listening.

Moving On

And maybe that’s why this coffee stained journal is the hardest to close.  It was full of pain.  Yeah, that’s true.  But it was also the romancing of my soul.  It was the first time I started to get to know the true me in the presence of the divine. 

It’s a terrible, lovely, depressing, beautiful collection of thoughts, and now it’s time to open a new one and write about all I have yet to learn.  

Thanks for reading this, friend.  I’d love to know what you thought. Let me know below, and be sure to subscribe to get a free ebook and updates on some exciting projects I have coming your way soon.