A tale of loss (and boots)

There is an expectation when writing about pain you will weaving a silver lining a lesson you have learnt a new perspective on the world. And there is a time and a place for that but this is not it. This is a post about loss.

On the surface my condition may seem do have little to do with with loss.  but coming to terms with a chronic pain condition has a lot in common with losing a friend or relative close to you. There is a similar grieving process.  In this case, it’s yourself you have lost.

I have lost who i was. This is not due to carelessness or lack of adaptation.  This is not because i couldn’t mentally adjust my new situation. This is because where i am now many things that would have defined me are now impossible. So what have i lost? Other than myself of course.

I have lost my freedom, my independence, any spontaneity i may have had, i have lost control. My identity right down to the clothes and shoes i wear has been transformed. I no longer wear rings on every finger instead i wear splints. I look longingly at bracelets I own, my wrists now covered in the medical beige of supportive strapping. In the bottom of my wardrobe, still in the box they came in, lay my beautiful black boots, ankle high, lace up with ribbon, 4 inch heels – beautiful. They took all of my savings when i was 18 and i will never be able to wear them again. Yet despite having known this for many years i am unable to part with them. i cannot deal with this loss. There are too many losses, i cannot inflict another upon myself. Under a table in my living room lay a pair of gorgeous brown knee high DM’s, once again lace up with ribbons. Even these with a sensible heel and ankle supporting structure are beyond me now. They are replaced by a functional pair of boots – zip up because my fingers can’t cope with laces.

I have lost more than books.  I have lost plans, dreams, friends, skills, talents, dignity, interests, hobbies.  I have lost books.  I am surrounded by books I will never be able to read. The pages are agony to turn. The books inflict pain if i hold them.

This is not a happy ending story. I am not your inspiring motivation tale. I have lost so much more than I can bear to think about and this is hard.

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