Sometimes, the only thing I can do is surrender to chronic illness.
As much as I want to fight through the pain, sometimes the strongest thing to do is let go.
I surrender and allow my husband to wash my hair when my arms are too heavy.
I surrender and tell my children that I can’t play when my eyes throb with pain.
I surrender and miss family dinners when my joints burn with each step.
I surrender and shut myself off from the world when my mind becomes dizzy with every movement.
Every single day, I battle pain. And every single day is a race to see how long before my body gives out. But, unfortunately, my pain is invisible, and I’ve learned to mask it well. So, when I surrender, it’s not because I’m weak. It’s because I’m tired. And if you know chronic pain, you know there is a difference between the two.
I don’t want to live in a world with I have to register my day based on the level of pain radiating throughout my body. Yet, I don’t have a choice.
For twenty years, I have woken up with pain in my knees.
For twenty years, I have barely slept on my left side because of my hip.
For twenty years, I have cried myself to sleep from headaches.
For twenty years, I have been in pain.
So, no, I don’t surrender because I’m weak.
I surrender because I’m strong.