My body is a battlefield...

Musing meditations into the BPS model of Pain...

When you live with chronic pain, but moreso with CRPS; there are going to be times where the pain unfortunately is going to win more battles than you. Because CRPS turns your body into a battlefield. There are times when you can push the enemy back behind its lines, reclaim captured territory. But there is also the times where you are going to have the enemy incursion destroy so much territory that you need to relinquish it forever. It is a war that will be fought by me for the rest of my life. Sure, cures can happen any time, but it is unlikely. After 16 years of unrelenting pain and destruction, I wouldn't know where my limbs are in my sensorimotor cortex if pain and CRPS were to suddenly vanish. I barely know where they are right now. 

It's not that I don't wish for a cure - of course I do! But the chances of it being effective in my case right now are slim to none; an actual cure would always be more effective in the early stages, before the changes become more fixed. A cure may allow someone to not lose so much of their bodies and years of life to the disease. They could live a normal life again. There is no turning back for me, the life I live right now is my "normal life". Even if a cure would work for me, it would take a whole lot of rehabilitation and relearning basic skills before I could even function. Would all that be worth it in my case, just to not have pain? At this stage of the game I cannot, with 100% certainty, agree. 

Regarding work, and the greener grass...

Sometimes, people make thoughtless comments which affect me somewhat unexpectedly. I'm pretty thick-skinned now, so i'm not running off and crying about it. While i know there's no malice in these people's intent, i find myself going over these statements in my head. Pain has been playing havoc with my sleep lately; so going over shit in my head while i'm trying not to give attention to Pain isn't really helping me sleep. 

I've been feeling very strong in who I am. I've found my voice again, reaffirmed my power. I accept my disability more than I ever did before: it's not that I like being disabled, but what's the point of wishing for something that won't ever be possible? I made friends with Pain, Disability is just another member of this odd social group of mine. Pain is the whining, whinging, screeching complainer of the group that never shuts the hell up; Disability is the pain in the arse who always needs accommodating. It is like the one who can't just order something off a menu, but insists on ingredients being omitted, others being added; food prepared in a certain and annoyingly exact way and sent back if it's not. Disability is the Sheldon of my group! I hate being that one, I hate drawing this type of attention. The only attention I want is for that which I worked hard, or for the fun and lighthearted things in life. I wish my disability was my secret: invisible, hidden - my own business, not for others to see. Because it is not, all I can do is shield myself behind brashness and laughs; deflecting my own deep shame and embarrassment, as well as unknowingly offensive comments from well-meaning people.