This Sucks

“It really sucks,” I told my mom, fighting back tears.

“I know. It really does,” she replied.

And that is the epitome of what I feel right now. Two days ago, I felt great. I was sure my meds were doing their magic. Today I’m sore, tired, it hurts to walk, my feet are swollen and my stomach is lurching.

So, yeah, it just sucks.

It sucks to be in pain. It sucks not to have control. It sucks to be young with this disease and heading home while all of your friends go to a concert because your feet hurt, you’re tired, and you can’t drink because of the methotrexate.

It sucks to feel sorry for yourself. It sucks to have people feel sorry for you. It sucks to have people not understand. It sucks to never give yourself a break.

I was going to end this post on a light note. To tell you that despite it sucking, it’s not your whole life. That you aren’t your disease and it doesn’t control you. But here’s the thing, I don’t feel like it tonight. I’m tired, I’m achy, I’m lonely, and I want a moment to wallow in self pity.

Tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll be ready with a better outlook and a brighter smile. But tonight, don’t tell me it’s going to be OK. Just take a note from my mom, nod and agree, “Yeah. It really does suck.”

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