I’ve written about fighting IBD so many times. That I’m not going to let it beat me. I refuse to let it get the better of me. I will continue to resist. I won’t be made to feel weak. And for almost five years. I did this rather brilliantly. My previous blog posts are full of incidents where I bounced back after feeling so ill. Every time.
(Btw, if you’re new to my blog, please check out About Me here. Thanks.)
So what’s so different about this time?
Following on from the previous two posts, I’m not feeling any better. I’m still having panic attacks every day. I still can’t stop crying. I can’t do any of the things I used to enjoy. There’s a deep pain inside that doesn’t ease. A gut-wrenching pain (although my guts have already been wrenched so I suppose I’d better call it heart-wrenching instead) that seems almost unreal. I feel that if I was to scream, I would shatter everything around me with the pain and intensity of it. I feel empty. Emotionless. Completely numb. Nothing matters. I don’t understand how the world still carries on. I’m crumbling, and only a very tiny number of close friends believe me. Everyone else just sees how strong I’ve been and thinks I’ll be able to pick myself up again.
Not this time.
This is nothing like I’ve felt before. I’ve had depression for a while. It isn’t an easy thing to live with. This is so intense, so much worse. I’m locked in the dark chasms of my mind and there’s no way out.
But finally, finally, I’m starting to realise a few things. The tiniest chink of hope. Not enough to be seen. But it’s there. I’m going to hold onto it with everything I’ve got because I have nothing else.
1) It doesn’t matter if I don’t understand why it’s happening.
I didn’t cause this. I didn’t bring it upon myself by not praying enough or by being negative. I can’t talk myself out of it. I don’t understand why it’s happening… And that’s ok. Maybe I’m not supposed to understand. Maybe I’m meant to go through it to make me a better person. Maybe I’m meant to go thorough it to help others in the future. Whatever the reason, Allah (God) always has the best plan. I’ve finally stopped questioning why. I never questioned why I have IBD and I see now that this is also a test. I need to treat it the same. Just because it’s a mental illness doesn’t mean I have to understand why it’s happening. It isn’t any less real.
2) Tests come in many forms.
This is the most difficult test I’ve ever faced. It’s taken me a while to understand that simply because I can’t control the thoughts, it doesn’t make me ungrateful. Thinking back, I couldn’t control my colon. It was vicious, attacking itself until it nearly ruptured and I almost died. That didn’t make me ungrateful. This doesn’t either. In this case, my mind is attacking. I have a name for what’s wrong but I’m not keen on sharing it yet. Yes, it’s serious. But there are ways to help and I pray and hope I get the right treatment.
3) I really, really don’t like being told to think positive right now.
Positive thinking is good. It helps us get through dark times. It’s been proven to make people feel better. I should know, I was always positive. Didn’t complain. But in this case, if it would have worked, that’s what I’d have been doing. When I say I can’t, I mean I actually can’t. So please don’t tell me to give myself a talking to. Or to just think positive. You may mean well. But think of how much it hurts me that this person isn’t even trying to believe me.
4) I just want people to listen.
That’s been the most important thing. Solutions haven’t helped me yet. I’m physically unable to do a lot of things. More tears, more pain every time I even think about trying. Panic attacks too. But I value and appreciate those who’ve believed me. I’ve been doubting myself a lot. I still do. But they’ve helped me feel.. Relief. I won’t say I feel better because that would be a lie. I think they understand that. But they believe me when I say I can’t go on anymore. That it’s all too much and I feel suffocated, drowning in my pain. On that note, don’t let this post fool you. Those feelings haven’t eased.
They don’t tell me I’ve dealt with more because it won’t help me now. When I have more hope, maybe it’ll help then. If this gets easier, maybe. It means everything to me right now to be believed because most don’t. I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m not supposed to be feeling like this. But I am, and it’s very real.
5) I’m still fighting.
I realised this last night and it’s the reason I wrote this post. I’m fighting it. I’ve been posting about it a lot on Instagram. Writing out my thoughts. Some don’t agree, say I’m being negative and it doesn’t help. But every time I write, I’m trying. I’m trying so hard to fight it. I haven’t got far, but maybe it’ll start helping. I’ve been reaching out to people, hoping someone out there will offer a shred of wisdom and it’ll all make sense. I’ve been overwhelmed by the response on the blog, Facebook and Instagram. Thank you to each and every one of you who got in touch. I’m sorry I haven’t replied yet, I just haven’t felt up to it. But I will InshaAllah (God willing).
I’m not giving in to the thoughts. Even writing and talking is fighting. This is the strongest I’ve ever been. And the weakest.