I’ve sat down at the computer a few times in the past few days and stared at the blinking cursor, unsure of what to write. I have been in my head since Friday, some of the time it was because I was overwhelmed, some of the time it was because it was the only way to escape life. To escape reality.

Things have been said to, about and by me this week that ring in my ears. Things that are all true, that were not said to hurt, but that were said. That needed to be said. That no matter how hard I try, cannot be unheard.

It’s clear that my pain, my problems have extended beyond me. It’s clear that they do not just change my life, that they change others. And while I knew this before, I guess I failed to appreciate the degree to which they do. I forget how my health changes my husband’s days. I forget how much work my friends have to undergo just to help me catch up in school. I don’t realize the energy that my teachers expend trying to accommodate me.

Earlier this week, one of my classmates, upon overhearing the drama of the dizzy/heart thing on Friday, commented that if she was me, she’d have quit school already. I know that on some level, it was meant as a compliment. She was impressed that I had managed as much as I had, impressed with my perseverance. I know that.

But I keep replaying it in my head. Over and over. She’d quit if she were me.

And what I hear is that other people see that things are so shitty, that if they were in my position, they’d quit. And then I wonder if I should. I wonder if it’s worth it. I wonder if, even if I can pass my exams and graduate in 2 and a half years, if I’ll be able to work or if I will spend the rest of my life fighting for a tiniest sliver of normalcy.

I wonder if it’s worth it.

My husband asked me a question this weekend that I can’t wrap my head around. He wondered if since my unhappiness is tied to my health and my health doesn’t appear to be getting better anytime soon, if I thought I’d be unhappy forever. He didn’t ask it to be an asshole. He asked it because it needed to be asked. He asked it because he bears the brunt of my health and the havoc it reeks on those around me. He asked because my happiness, or lack thereof, is very directly impacting his.

And I sat there, sort of stunned.

Because well, maybe. I don’t think I’m depressed. I don’t think it’s a chemical imbalance. I think that I am unhappy because I am in pain. I think I am not myself because right now, my life kind of blows. But he’s right. there’s no end in sight. If the blood patch was going to seal up any tiny leaks that could be lowering my intracranial pressure and causing my headache, it should’ve already. And as much as I try to pretend like it isn’t, my head is still hurting. Every damn day.

It’s been 6 months. I am miserable.

What if it lasts 6 years?

6 decades?

It’s just hard to imagine how life plays out from here. It’s hard to get out of my head, to see the world around me, to see how much I’ve hurt those I love, those I need.

I don’t know what else there is to say or do. I don’t know how life moves on from here or what’s next. I don’t even know what the next hour will bring, let alone the next day or week. I can live with not knowing, that’s a fact of life. But I can’t live with the fear that comes with chronic pain. The fear that comes with seeing your life harm others.

The fear of life being the way it is, forever.

I don’t fear that tomorrow will bring something new. I fear that tomorrow won’t bring anything different than today.

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