I feel like every time I start a new stage in my life, I start a new blog. I’m indecisive about them. I feel like I should have a theme but I never stick with one. I think maybe it’s because I tend to avoid writing about the one consistent thing in my life – disease.
Shocking, I know. But at 24-years-old, I deal with things on a daily basis that many 40- and 50-year-olds don’t. I’ve had arthritis pretty much my entire life. While no form of arthritis is good, I definitely have one of the worst – the aggressive bastard known as rheumatoid arthritis. What does this mean? Essentially my immune system is destroying my joints. Thanks to a lovely defect, it views my joints as foreign invaders that need to be stopped. France could learn a thing or two from my immune system.
Anyways, sometimes I feel strong and lucky. I take pride in the smallest of things. Any day I can put on my shoes, open a pop can and drive to work is a day I delight in my ability. But most of the time I feel like I’m sitting around with my life passing me by. And it sucks.
I’ve always taken solace in writing. Writing has helped me through so many things – break ups, crises of faith, death, depression and my addiction to dashes. (Okay, maybe not the dashes!) I keep asking myself why it’s so hard for me to write about my disease. My RA has been inside me for so long that it’s become intertwined with who I am. If I didn’t have it, I would be a completely different person. It’s shaped me even when I didn’t want it to and fought like hell to beat it. Is it because it’s too personal? Is it too painful? What’s the deal?
I decided I need to break down this wall. I need some writing therapy to help me understand myself and my disease in a new way. I feel like there’s things in my life I need to accept, and this will help me. I can’t promise cheerfulness. Hell, I can’t even promise coherency half the time. Some days I just want to scream at the top of my lungs.
I’m an open book. Feel free to ask me anything or comment below. I just ask that you be understanding. You don’t have to be sympathetic, but I do not tolerate bullying or cruelty.
For now, it’s a bath and pain medicine for me.