When every day is painful and difficult, how many years of that do you owe to the people who love you before you choose to be done struggling, knowing full well that the pain and difficulty will then transfer to your family and friends.
What is strong? You hear people say sometimes, “Oh, she was so strong. She never complained, always had a smile for everyone.” If that’s the qualifier, guess I’d be in the featherweight division. I can’t help but moan and groan or huff and puff, sound effects of effort, strain, overwhelming fatigue, and ever changing, assorted hurting. Tears, I have a bottomless well of salty drops. They stream down my face of their own volition, and sometimes my body is shaken with sobbing.
Having a chronic illness literally weakens my muscles and immune system. So, does that mean I am weak? I can’t hold all the pain inside without it brimming over; is that an indicator of weakness? I didn’t used to think of myself as a weak person, but when I look for remaining strongholds I don’t see any.