Behind closed doors … what no one sees

Flares come and go. This one is etched eternally in my heart.

Living on my own, barely able to move; I lay on the bed. The pain, excruciating and debilitating, breathed heavily through my bones and joints. Stiffness draped over me like a blanket of lead, far too heavy to lift.

My hands, elbows, neck and shoulders all simultaneously locked and weakened as though they’d spent days on end in tight bonds, rendering them weak, swollen and useless.

Every movement needed to be measured. Getting up was beyond a chore and getting dressed became an option far too difficult to manage. Each step an awkward shuffle and stumble as pain pierced each step. Calculated risk, measured only by necessity.

You need to eat. 

I dragged myself off the bed with every ounce of my will power and shuffled to the kitchen. I paused: thankful that I’d made it this far, but internally hurt by how much effort it took to get there.

You can do this.

I took a deep breath and grimaced as I opened the cupboard door. The cereal was around head height. Visible. Within reach, yet may as well have been on mars. I tried so hard to reach. I grimaced, I breathed deeply. I tried swinging my arms to gain momentum.

I’ve been here before. It’s ok. It will pass. 

Yet each moment that passed brought a new level of frustration.
How is it that something as simple as making breakfast became the undoing of me?

I stood there and caved. Something deep inside me cracked and I cried out:
“How could anyone ever love this? Who would want to see this? And, why would they?” 

I was unable to get changed, unable to wash my hair, unable to move freely … and now I couldn’t even get myself a bowl of cereal. The words changed from courage to despair:

No one could ever love this.
No one could put up with this.
You can’t even …
It’s too much …
You’re too much … 

I stood and stared blankly at the cupboard. Overwhelmed with the heaviness of it all, I cried. I let out tears of pain and frustration that my body was yet again letting me down, and that I was seemingly on my own in this.

The weight of struggle rested behind the closed doors of my little house, hidden from the world: the world who couldn’t handle me at that point. The world only my parents knew of. The world I felt alone in.

Returning to my bed, the reality of my thoughts grieved me. It sat heavy on my heart and I poured out my soul on my pillow.

No one knows exactly what goes on behind closed doors. People think I’m strong, but that’s far from the truth. If they knew how hard it gets, how crippled these moments are … what then? How quickly would they run? Who would dare enter these walls?

The reality is hard to live with. Pain is ugly, messy and complicated.

No one sees this.
What is the point of it?
How can this ever be used for good?

I died a little that day. I died to the idea that I could be loved by someone. I was left with a renewed understanding that I alone live in this body. And that means everything it does or doesn’t do: I have to live with that. I couldn’t expect someone to come into my world. Why would they choose to be a part of that?

Thank God for resurrection.

You see, I know that I am more than the pain in my body. I am more than flesh and bone. This heart, this life, this being is simply more. It has more to give, more to offer and more to love. Confined by a body is different to being defined by it. Should someone enter this world, may it be a blessing both ways.

Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it sucks.
No, you’re not alone.
Yes, you’re worth it.
And … you can … you really, really can! 

Who would enter my world?  Your world?   Perhaps those who seek after truth and beauty, who look beyond the external and see what lie beneath.

We all have our pains, and there is hope in it.  In it, alongside it and all over it. There is always hope. There is a place of grace, rest and mercy.

Dear heart, stand up. If not physically, then metaphorically. Take heart and know that you really are loved and lovable.

And for those who come near, may you find the courage to sit and stay.
Stay with me. Stay with us. Together we are stronger.

May we all never be alone again.

Peace and rest to you,
Ang xx

Psalm 116:1 “I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy”