Freedom of movement

Hello my friends!

It's been a while, my apologies. Recent events have kept me on the down low, but I'm slowly crawling back. I want to discuss something that might get under the skin of some of the more able-bodied folks out there.

I was talking with a fellow spiney friend of mine who is having a rough time coping with life after surgery. He's in constant pain and residing in a very dark place. A place I'm more than familiar with. He spoke of being a prisoner in his own body. Of locking himself away from the world, of feeling inadequate. Of wanting to move on from this mortal coil. This is a feeling I know all too well.

I didn't judge him. I didn't try to brighten his spirits with empty talk of 'life will get better'. I just listened. I gave him the space to say what he needed to say, free from any obligation to explain himself. Because I know what he's going through, and sometimes you just need someone to listen to you explain what you're feeling without fear of being ignored or patronized.

For those of you reading this who are otherwise able-bodied, meaning you aren't in agonizing pain and live a rewarding and comfortable life, please don't offer your opinion to someone whose existence can only be described as a daily, naked crawl through broken glass. Don't even speak. Just listen. Wanting to bring an end to the pain is very personal, and unless you have been stuck in this bottomless pit of despair with no hope and no end in sight, you have no idea what you're talking about.

If you get upset with a friend who wants to end their pain once and for all, you are being selfish. You are  thinking only of how their absence will affect you, and not their struggle. When every second of every day is a prison cell of pain, the only thing you want is relief. And for some, relief is a soothing pint of morphine away. So if you find yourself speaking with someone who can't see past the mountain of pain crushing their soul, don't speak, just listen.

Sometimes just being heard is enough to get that person through another day.

With that said, I'm thankfully no longer a resident of Darktown. My struggles become more tolerable as time goes by. I'm back to riding my single speed mountain bike, hammering out mile after mile. Pain is still my co-pilot, but I can cope.

Two weeks ago I underwent another round of stem cell injections in my low back, but this time we hit the facet joints further up my spine to help get some relief in areas I'd been neglecting. My body is enjoying a freedom of movement that two and a half years ago seemed impossible. I'm feeling strong for the first time in far too long, and every day is a new opportunity to get stronger.

I will never be satisfied, which helps drive me, but I appreciate each and every moment that I can rise without daggers digging into my spine and forcing me to my knees.

For anyone currently living in Darktown, I know what you're going through. I know the thoughts swirling around in your head can be difficult to rationalize. But they're normal. Don't beat yourself up for simply wanting an end to the pain. My only advice is to find something, a glimmer of progress, any change that feels like a sliver of improvement or hope, and grab onto that hope with everything you have and work your ass off to push forward.

Nothing in life is static. Life IS change. Up, down, sideways, backwards, forwards. We keep moving in different directions. You might have to take two steps back to go one step forward at times. Progress can arrive in inches or miles. It can come slamming down with thunderous force or drizzle across your face like a sweet spring rain. But just Keep. Moving. Forward.

Peace, my friends.

- I