I wake up every morning with shear grit and determination to be my best self, to be a functioning member of society. I self-motivate to complete the tasks I set for myself the night before, knowing the self-gratification will fulfill me and make me whole. I am That Girl.
I wake up every morning, my brain fizzing and consumed with pain. I dread to even turn over to reach out for my medication, knowing the brain fog will soon take over and my day will be dulled with the gruesome side effects of prescription drugs. My head and my body begin their daily battle of knowing what needs to be done, and the frustration of simply not being able to do those things. I look at my list of tasks the wishful girl of last night wrote and drown in my thoughts, knowing they can’t be completed. I am This Girl.
I text my parents that once again, I have struggled with sleep, I am debilitated with pain and I just cannot cope. I see the message has been read with no reply. The reply comes through later, I know they have been considering how to respond, what could you possibly reply with? How can they help? I feel terrible as they come to pick up my daughter, as I can’t parent today. I feel I am taking over their retirement. I feel selfish, I feel useless. I am This Girl.
I was once a girl so full of energy and ambition. I had so many dreams for my future, I had my life mapped out full of adventures, fulfillment, opportunities and challenges. I was that girl who was up at 5:30 a.m. to go on a run, out on my blades or lifting weights. I was that girl who everyone asked, “Where do you get your energy from?” I am That Girl.
I was once a girl so full of energy and ambition. The plans and dreams I once made are now a distant memory. I grieve for this girl, I miss her. I look back at the girl who was always so full of life and who could take on the world. I look in the mirror and know my energy is zapped, the world will have to wait, getting through the next hour is going to be a chore. I am This Girl.
I love to socialize and meet new people until the dreaded questions begin. Society has made it normal to ask people their name, quickly followed by what it is you do for a living. A job somehow defines us as human. Now, I have two options: Take the judgment of being unemployed, a housewife, a full-time mom, or begin to explain my story of pain, failed operations and the dreary truth of my life. Either way, people will judge. I shouldn’t care, but I do. People see a girl full of positivity, hair done, makeup done, nails done and can’t believe this is what my life is. Well, this is the girl I want people to see. They do not see the repercussion of this. For days, I will struggle with the consequences of being up and about, being social and living my life. I will feel guilt I took a day or night to do this and now my whole life is on hold for a few days while a recover. I am This Girl.
I love to share my life with others: What I do, who I see, where I go, how my family and I are doing. I feel proud of what I have and the life I live. Sharing my life on social media, with friends and family, or in conversations with new people is simply one of my favorite things. I am living my best life, it is perfect for me and I am overjoyed to share my world. I am That Girl.
I have absolutely come to terms with my condition, I do have days, hours or sometimes even minutes where I truly appreciate how my pain has changed my life. How I am now so much more empathetic and open-minded.
I have absolutely come to terms with my condition; however, this does not stop the grieving for the girl I once was. Some days are tough, everyone has their battles in life, these are my battles. I am This Girl.