#and realizing yet again that it’s forever

I think one of the things about living with chronic pain is that you just… forget other people don’t. You forget their days aren’t marked by which body parts the pain is worst in that day, which rituals they’ve gone through to try to ease it, which tasks they think are manageable through the haze of pain. And sometimes you begin to ascribe some type of meaning to the pain, even though you know it’s senseless. Even though you know all you can do is endure it. This isn’t some story where the pain is an allegory for something else that can be defeated in the end. It doesn’t stand for some greater evil. It’s not something that will go away when you learn to love and accept yourself. You can get therapy, you can find love, you can finish whatever quest you set out on, and you’ll still be in pain. I don’t know how to explain the exhaustion that holds.