The intersection of fear and pain
Missing school has always been something I struggled with. When I told my mom I wanted to stay home in high school, she always said yes, fever or no, because she knew how hard it was for me to admit I needed to. Because she knew that I hated being behind and would do anything to stay up with my classmates.
Missing over 2 weeks of school has been among the most difficult part of the 12 week headache. I’m enrolled (as are all my classmates) in 8 classes this semester. I missed one (HUGE) 2 part exam and have 4 exams in the next 2 weeks. And I am hopelessly lost. In school and in my life.
I am struggling so much each day to face what’s next, to face anything. I am in horrible pain. Pain that prevents me from sleeping. Pain that prevents me from focusing for more than a few minutes. On those few moments when I can focus away from pain, my mind wanders to brain surgery and how far behind I am in school.
I am overwhelmed.
I am so overwhelmed, I have lost even more of myself than the pain has taken.
I cry, every day. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes in public.
I can’t sleep well. I have nightmares every night.
I can’t eat. My stomach churns.
I feel anxious all the time.
And I have been questioning why I’m doing all of this. Why I’m trying to finish this program when it is obviously harming my body, my health, my mind.
And I still don’t know the answer to that.
Things are so complicated right now. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know if this pain and stress is worth it. But I also know that if I quit now because it’s hard, then I’m throwing away the last 3 years of my life. I’m making all the sacrifices Slappy and I have made for years completely worthless. I’m completely closing the door on that dream.
I can switch to a setup we have called the “Flex” program, but it means that it will take me 4 years to complete this program instead of 3 . It means postponing the life I’ve planned. It means postponing a family, it means postponing an income. It means postponing my life, our lives .
The trouble with the Flex program (which I know sounds perfect) is that I’m passing all my classes right now. If I drop to the flex program, I will lose all that. It will make about half my work this semester worthless. It will mean that I’ll have wasted a lot of time and worry and money.
And the other thing is that in all of this, I’ve lost sight of what I want. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. And I moreover, if my health continues to decline the way it is, I don’t know if I’ll even be able to do what I’m training in school for.
And then what? What will all of this trouble and pain and worry have been for?
The bottom line is that I don’t know anything. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what I should do.
All I have is uncertainty. And tears.
Always tears.
11 Responses to “The intersection of fear and pain”
Leave a Reply
Welcome! I'm Katie, a 28 year old, full-time graduate student who just happened to have brain surgery in November of 2007 to give my ginormous brain a little more space. This blog chronicles my daily life, from relentless headaches to being a doctor's wife. Sit down, get comfortable and stay for a while.
I don’t have anything profound or particularly useful to say, I’m afraid, but I physically ache when I read your entries these days. I know too well how frustrating and painful it is to realize that your plan for life/family/school/future is being screwed up. It’s hard, and it sucks, and really sometimes it seems like there just isn’t going to be a “right” choice. They all suck. They’re all hard for different reasons. And I hate that you have to go through this. And I can’t fix it. I can’t even really offer anything helpful because yeah, it just sucks. I am not a ray of sunshine on this topic. So mostly, I’m not saying much.
I hope that you know that my lack of saying much is not a lack of support: I believe that you can and will do whatever you decide you want to do. I have faith that things will work out somehow because holy shit, if I didn’t I would fall to pieces. It is the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes. So I’ll share my little shards of fragmented hope with you — I’ll just hold onto them for both of us until you’re ready to carry some again.
[Reply]
No moment you’ve lived is wasted. Your teaching credentials are not wasted because you’re now a retired teacher. Whatever you’ve learned so far is also not wasted. There are answers in your tears. Grieving the lifestyle you had four months ago. Things have changed. Change has come. It’s okay to be sad.
[Reply]
You HAVE to take care of your health first and foremost. You can’t focus on what you might lose because that will be all too consuming. Focus on what you might gain from making changes. This does not make you weak or a failure. You are SO much stronger than I bet you will ever give yourself credit for. In the big scheme of things a year or two is not so much. Time to move the goal posts perhaps and give yourself a break yeah?
[Reply]
I went through this thought process last week. Whatever is wrong with me is getting worse and worse, and I have not being doing well this semester at all. I felt constantly stressed out and finally last week broke down to Mike and told him how I felt. I talked to my mom the next day, and then decided to withdrawal form school.
It was not an easy decision, but I know I’ve been wanting to all semester. I think I just needed someone to tell me it was okay.
I know it’s really hard to pretty much throw away all of the work you’ve done so far, but if you’re feeling that it’s impacting your health and since you’re having such a hard time getting through the day anyway, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. As Mike and my mom said to me, school will always be there. You can always go back.
I was having doubts myself whether what I was studying for was really the career I wanted. Listen to the doubts and feelings you’re having. I’m not saying you should or shouldn’t take a break or switch to the Flex program; only you can decide that. I guess what I’m saying is, it’s okay if you decide that’s what you want to do. You will not be any less of a person, and even though you feel as if you’re throwing away the work you’ve done, sometimes you have to sacrifice a little to feel better.
I wish the answers were easier, and more than that I wish we didn’t have to make these choices. I wish we could all just be healthy and be able to pursue whatever dreams we want to pursue without these problems getting in our way. Know that when I say I know how you feel, I really and truly do, and I hope that things start to look up for you.
Hugs and love.
[Reply]
{{{just hugs}}}
[Reply]
My mother taught me a valuable lesson many years ago. She taught me I needed to be selfish. Sometimes we need to put ourselves ahead of others. You have to take care of your health, your body, your brain first, so you can start looking outward again. I know you want to start your new profession, which I have no doubt (though you’ve kept it shrouded in secrecy) will be one of those “helping people” jobs. But you cannot help others if you do not address yourself first.
The options seem shitty, like they really aren’t choices at all. Can you take a medical leave of absence? I can’t tell you what kind of decision to make. When I’m confronted with Shitty Choice A and Shitty Choice B, I get stuck and can’t see either of them as realistic options. So you have to make the decision.
But remember to be selfish.
[Reply]
I have been taught all of my life that if you don’t have your health you don’t have anything. There is nothing that I can or will say that has a whole lot of value here, but I’ve been reading you long enough to know this – if it was me and not you – if it was ME – I don’t care WHAT it would cost in terms of sacrifice and loss, I would look to my health first. All that other stuff is secondary to health. All that other stuff can be recovered after health is regained.
[Reply]
@mrs. apron: So if you don’t have health, you have nothing? Luckily I think differently: I donot have health but I have lots of other values in my life.
[Reply]
sorry, I mean: @lceel
[Reply]
The bright side is that no matter how hard it is you are passing. Maybe not up to your standards but you’re doing this despite this pain and for that you should be proud. I agree your health comes first. I know what its like to postpone a dream even when its the right choice you’ll still think about what could have been. If you think you can keep going as planned then do it. If you think surgery is definitely in the future and your work will be a waste regardless then take some time off or switch to the flex program so you can focus on you. I had to tell myself my plans for a family and dream job will still be there when i finish. I want/need those things now but sometimes life doesnt go as planned. If you take care of this now you can fully enjoy the fruit of your labor and be a happy healthy mommy, wife, etc. {{{hugs}}}
[Reply]
I wrote an update on my CB page today, and it wasn’t the usual positive spin I always try to put on my life. I was honest. It’s getting hard, and I was honest about it. And I learned just how hard it is to be honest about a life that has pain and fatigue and nausea to define it.
I didn’t know it would be so hard to be honest. You do it every day. You share your fears and your feelings and your anger and your despair. And I learned today that it isn’t easy to do that.
So, I thank you, Katie, for being a good example of honesty. Of being overwhelmed and overtired and just admitting it. It sounds so easy.
But it isn’t. Is it?
Praying that the support and love expressed here in your comment section lifts you and helps you to feel understood and cared about.
[Reply]