This is the thing about chronic illness that I keep trying to wrap my head around; it's chronic.
The horrors persist.
The horrors will continue to persist.
I've run out of medical interventions, I've run out of options. And at the same time I know I can't keep running away from my life. It's an excuse, and a valid one at that, but I'm tired of it derailing my life. But I have no choice.
As this disease perseveres in my body, I will have to persevere with my life in spite of it.
I am strong and resilient, and this is a good thing, but I wish I could be soft too. A soft version of me died many years ago. Years before the inflammation and pain took over my body. I wonder plenty about causation and correlation but I don't believe it's really of any consolidation now. Thinking about it isn't helpful.
I am grateful my condition is periodic. At least I get breaks. Others aren't so lucky with their medical misfortunes.
Although I generally endeavour to keep a zen mindset, a little 'woe is me' is good for the soul, I think. It can be cathartic. I'm allowed to shout out to the universe and to the void that this sucks. Because it does. It fucking sucks.