May the guilt be with you

I saved this post and was ready to publish when I realised I should start with a disclaimer: I am not suicidal. I am not going to harm myself or others. I am safe, I am loved, I am in pain - but it's a pain I know and am dealing with. 

Now for the actual post:

There have been moments in my journey with TN where I have felt like I wanted to throw in the towel. Moments where I knew that I was teetering on the edge of joining the statistics that have resulted in TN being dubbed the suicide disease.

Those moments have been interwoven with an undeniable, excruciating sense of guilt. There is a guilt that comes with living through something that others don't understand or can't see. Feeling guilty because you're no longer functioning at the same level you did previously. No matter how illogical it seems or how much psychotherapy you go through, this guilt is there and is difficult to ignore.

The guilt at those moments of despair is different. Its guilt that eats at you for letting your supporters down. A feeling of guilt for being weak and not being able to push through. A feeling of guilt because you know there is going to be someone saying or thinking that "this isn't going to kill you" so you should be grateful and not desperate for a way out. Guilty feelings that fester because, surely you should have been able to push through this for your spouse, your kids, your loved ones, because it's selfish to think otherwise. Guilty feelings exacerbated by the constant advice about the healing that will come through prayer or exercise or lemon water (or any other natural remedy). Guilty feelings raised up on you because you should be thankful for the advice as it shows care and support from those who offer it.

Yes, the guilt that lurks daily is exponentially greater at those low moments. Sometimes, scarily, the guilt is all encompassing. Those moments when the pain is suffocating and the feelings of guilt are low, are the really scary ones.  More importantly though, in those really scary moments, I am grateful for my husband. His support and offer of a shoulder to cry on, an arm I can dig my nails into, or 'borrowing' me a spoon to at least shower, is invaluable. I can honestly say that without that support, without him helping me fight the demon, I would find it more difficult to embrace that guilt as a means of helping me keep it together to make it through the extreme pain.

I hope today that all those living with chronic pain, especially TN, have some guilt to keep them going. If you're lucky enough to have moved past that feeling of guilt, my wish for you is that you never feel it again or at least never have to rely on it to get you through a dark moment.

May the elephant on your face sleep tonight.

  There's an elephant on my face by Lianne Keiller is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Subscribe in a reader