You are Never Alone, and Life can Always Improve…even when Life is Worse than Gitmo

You are Never Alone, and Life can Always Improve…even when Life is Worse than Gitmo

You are never really alone, even when it feels like you are. 

And there are always ways to make at least some parts of your life better. 

No matter what you’re going through. 

And that’s coming from someone who was taken prisoner by devastating illness in college, and who’s been confined to the illness’s torture chamber for 13 years since.  I’ve had my life stolen, replaced by constant physical agonies and social isolation.  I’ve been trapped, a prisoner in my own body, with no way to escape.

BUT, I have not let my illness take my spirit.  In fact, I’ve grown my Soul stronger and used it to guide me to discover how to feel less alone, and to live as good a life as possible– under any circumstances.

So, how did I do it?  And how do I continue to do it?…how do I KEEP GOING every single day?  Well, the story starts in hell:

Upon first waking, a fraction of a second passes before I’m fully conscious and agony arrives.  The next second tells what kind of day it will be– how terrible I’ll feel.  My eyes still closed, my head spins, my heart rate surges, my nervous system frazzles, and the pain feels so bad I can’t stay comfortable. 

I must constantly squirm, stretching my muscles and nerves to try to calm them.  Yet I’m so exhausted, even just after sleeping, that I can’t bring myself to move.  I gear my mind and body up, then force myself to flip over to massage aching muscles. 

That’s when adrenaline starts to spurt; my nervous system scrapes any energy it can muster for me to accomplish the task. 

I then prepare myself for the day.  I spend 20 minutes in bed meditating.  It’s the only thing that brings some calm and focus to my mind, centering me for the day.  Just thinking takes too much effort, so meditation clears thoughts from my brain. 

Afterwards, I sit up, my heart rate skyrocketing; it will stay there until I sleep again. 

I slowly make my way to the kitchen, the first of four scheduled trips down the hall; I don’t have strength for more.

I pray no one is home to say hello or ask me how I’m feeling.  My focus is on standing, getting food, brushing my teeth, and making it back to bed.  My brain can’t process someone talking, and I don’t have energy to reply.  Plus I’m so sensitive to noise that sound sends my nervous system over the edge.

I meticulously measure out food for the day, which my mom already prepared.  Unless I eat exact amounts of foods, I don’t extract enough energy from food to “function,” and I gain several pounds the next day.  I also pay if I don’t eat the right kinds of foods: my stomach cramps at all hours.

I get back to bed, lying down in blissful relief.  I’m still in torment, but I don’t have to fight as hard. 

I check a few emails and some news, but not for too long because my dizziness stops me.  I spend most of the day watching tv and movies, counting the hours until it’s bedtime. 

Every second is torture and I want to escape it with sleep. 

At bedtime, 14 hours before I get up again, I’m eager for rest– but not for the painful, restless night ahead.  It takes two hours for me to fall asleep. 

My pain is relentless. 

I finally sleep, but wake often through the night.  My stomachaches wake me, my pain keeps me up, and I wake for no reason. 

By morning, I’m tired of the effort and patience it takes to sleep, yet I want more. 

I’m completely unrested, and I feel even more drained from yesterday’s efforts.  But I’ve spent enough time in bed.  I’ve had a bit of reprieve and it’s time for another day.    

Now, that’s a lot to take in.  But I write it to tell you that I know what it’s like to HURT.  I know what it’s like to feel alone, cut off and different from the rest of the world, and horribly sad. 

But I also write it because this is only my story, and I know you have one too.  Through some treatments, I’ve improved enough, physically, to function, to certain degrees, in some areas.  Yet, I mostly remain a prisoner in an unimaginable hell on earth.  So I must fight on.  As you must fight on (I hope you do).

So, the story continues here.  I write this as a glowing billboard in the desert, so that you know that no matter what you’re going through:

You are never alone.  Ever.  Someone is always there.

YOU are there.  Your soul is inside you, loving and guiding you, always.

Family is there.  Friends are there.  Trustworthy strangers are there.

Hope is there.

And I am here.  To lend you support, inspiration, and an ear to listen. 

Because by sharing tips with you on how to take loving care of yourself, and how to use everything and everyone we DO have in our lives, I want to help you work to feel less alone, and to make your life better.  I promise that things CAN change for the better, if you HANG ON to patience and hope, and do your best to help create change. 

For me, for a long time, creating change “just” meant learning tools to help me cope with my illness… such as ways of thinking about things, and the meditation I mentioned above.  But there is so much more to Living…to REALLY Living.  Which is what I’ve started to do, and what I think we all want to do.

So I invite you to join me on a journey of becoming aware of, and practicing, ways to feel more calm and happy.  To not only SURVIVE, but to THRIVE.

Remember, you are not alone.  We are not alone.  We can get through this together.

To join me, please sign up for my weekly email list HERE, and follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

When you sign up for my email list at the link above, you’ll also instantly receive a FREE Self-Care Guide with a Daily Checklist, to get you started, and to keep you going, on the road to healing your Life!

All my love,

Steph

Ps. I want to hear from you! 

—-Let me know, in the comments below, on social media, or through email, what you may be going through, and how I can be of help to you (do you have questions? requests for example stories or ways of processing circumstances or feelings?). 

—-And if you feel comfortable, share your experiences of dealing with emotional or physical pain– the difficult parts and how you’re getting (or got) through them.  It will likely help others.

(Please be understanding.  Due to my physical limitations, I may be delayed in replying.)

Pps. If you know someone who could use a boost and feel less alone, please pass this post on to them.  You might change their day!