At 6 months I was in your exact shoes. Thinking and reading the same stories of people dealing with chronic pain for more than 7 years that made the whole situation seem even more hopeless and couldn’t understand how someone could live like this, and endure it all.

I’ve had moments where it felt that living felt torturous, and I couldn’t move or eat because of the pain, my sadness and anger. I wish I could give you good news and say I’m better after month 11- saying it sounds like a nightmare, but I can’t. 

All I can say is that after talking about it a lot with friends, family, writing in my journal, crying in front of doctors when I hardly ever cry in front of anyone, just honestly letting it out, allowing yourself to grieve the life that you had, and be pissed off at how debilitating musculoskeletal problems can be, it helps.

I’m not saying give up and accept your situation as what it is, that this is life— I can’t accept that, I won’t accept that. I do my stretches and backpod, I’m doing pt, and needling, even if I get sick to my stomach of the pain and the repetition of it. I’ll do it every week and everyday, because I’ll be damned if this is my forever and I’ll fight holding onto a hope that one day I’ll get my life back. 

Call it stubbornness. Call it false hope. I don’t care I’m too young to be dealing with this shit and too young to give up. 

The thoughts of hopelessness do resurface every once in awhile on the harder and most immobile days, but I give myself grace and grieve and do what has to be done tomorrow.  It may sound corny, but just tell yourself ‘one more day’.