A Life Unknown:

I’ve spent the last five years adjusting to a different life. At age 26 my world changed, and a once vibrant and healthy life transformed rapidly into one of chronic pain and debilitating fatigue. A bout of Meningitis and a subsequent Nervous System Disorder changed the framework of my reality and forced me to change nearly everything I knew.

In this new world, the values that seemed to mean the most to me slipped away rapidly. How could a high-powered career be important at a time when it hurt so much just to hold a pen. And how could working 80 hours a week have been such a priority, when I could barely stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. That’s just how quickly it all changed.

For these last five years, I’ve learned to embrace and accept this change, albeit not always with grace and dignity. It took years to accept a different life, and years to accept it without a sense of feeling cheated and robbed. Being angry at G-d became a bit self-defeating after a time, although I’m certain I tested those boundaries beyond any reasonable measure. But after a while, with a broken spirit, angry heart, and confused mind, I stopped living in the past and embraced the changes. That’s when it all changed…again.

Within this new reality emerged a world of growth, opportunity, and potential for relating to the world and to people differently. Compassion and empathy for human suffering and pain became a heightened part of my awareness that hadn’t existed before. I had something new to offer. I had made my way through the darkest of darkness and was able to offer hope and comfort to those that saw no hope for light. A world of hope, healing, faith and meaning unfolded before my eyes. And when my own energy was strong enough, I could share this vision with others in need. And yet, there were still many times that my own limited strength and ability to tolerate my own pain, made it impossible do little more than to just hold on. Life became a constant and inconsistent cycle of holding on for dear life, and also giving hope to others for a new life. That is, until last week when it all changed again.

G-d brings us miracles all the time. Some are very clear and some are hidden. My life has been blessed with many that have shown with varying degrees of recognition. Yet, two weeks ago the miracle shone clearer than ever before. After years of chronic suffering and pain, my doctor discovered the cause for it – an easily treatable cause. And another week later, I am pain and medication free.

Just like that, it’s gone. What was going to be a life sentence with my body as my own prison was pardoned in an instant. The warden came to my cell, unlocked the door, and said you’re free, now go home. But for the last five years, this cell was my home. I decorated it, made it comfortable, and even hung a few pictures on the wall. So now, as I’m packing up my boxes and getting ready to leave, I’m not quite sure where to go.

When miracles of this magnitude occur, there’s an initial desire to shout it off the rooftops and to tell everyone you know. But when I tested those waters, it seemed that very few people could appreciate the magnitude of this open miracle. I mean, how could they? Most people didn’t even think I was sick in the first place. In their eyes, I may have gotten tired easily, or have been less able to participate in the same type of physical activity that I used to, but it wasn’t a big deal to them. And my emotionality that came as a result of it, was just chalked up to me being “overly sensitive” and part of the package.

Very few people understand the impact that a chronic illness has on a person’s life, soul, body, and mind. And fewer people understood or appreciated the impact that this one had on mine.

There were many nights that I lie awake. Alone and in pain I would talk to G-d. The first few years, I would rage at him for ravaging my body with such unspeakable mind-numbing pain. One night, when the pain was so blinding I threw something across the room and screamed at Him for doing this to me. In this rage, I cried out… “Why are you doing this. Why don’t you just leave me alone?” And then I realized that I’d just asked the only one that could help me, to leave me alone. I cried for hours that night in pain, disbelief, and a newfound revelation.

Even after I began to turn to him for comfort, there were many times when my capacity to deal with pain outweighed my desire for life. Those nights, I would beg with all my remaining strength that he would release me and let me die. There were many nights of this sort. Many more than I care to admit, or probably even can remember. But as my spirit and strength grew, those nights lessened and hope slowly emerged.

As my heart grew more open and hopeful, the illness waxed and waned. But so long as I was able to function in a semi-normal way, I learned to be content with small accomplishments. And somehow, I even managed to make some major ones along the way as well. In spite of these limitations, I learned to accept my lot in life and still hold onto the belief that my deepest desires – to make a difference in the world and to be a healthy and happy wife and mother – would still somehow find a way to come true. I learned how important it was never to give up on oneself, on ones’ dreams, and most importantly… on G-d himself.

I still do not know if I am able to yet thank G-d for the pain itself. To scream out thank you in moments when ones’ soul is being branded with hot iron coals, is a higher level than I was able to consistently attain. But I can with all my heart thank him for the growth, experiences, and life that came as a result of this fiery cleansing.

Now that I have my box in hand, I walk out of this cell to find a new home. This packed box is filled with bittersweet memories, powerful experiences, and tools to carry me for a lifetime. I’ve sifted through the remnants of these years, saved some, and looked to find the nearest incinerator for the others – many serve no purpose any more.

So, I’m off to find my new home, and am ready for the journey. I’ve learned that any home can be beautiful, so long as the walls are papered with gratitude.