A Letter

To Whom It May Concern:

F--- you!

Maybe that’s not the most “lady-like” way to say it, but that’s how I feel.  For two years now, you and I have been in an unhealthy, one-sided relationship.

You show up whenever it’s convenient for you.  You wake me from sleep, sometimes several times a night, just because you can.  You’re often on top of me first thing in the morning, as I struggle to awake and rise from bed.  You follow me to work.  And then sometimes you hide, and then just as I’m letting my guard down and starting to relax and feel like the old me, you re-appear at the most inopportune times - shortly before a bath, during dinner, while I’m playing with Ryan.  You do it just to let me know you’re still around and you’re still in charge.

I get it.  I know.  I’ve got the bottles of pills to prove it.

I’m so sick of it.  I’m tired of you.

How dare you come here and change my life!  Because that’s what you’ve done.  I go through the motions, try to keep my life the way it was, but it’s impossible.  And you enjoy that, don’t you?  Do you like seeing me bite my lip in pain?  Do you laugh as I try to massage my calf, knowing full well that my meager touch won’t do a thing to assuage the grip you have on my leg?

On top of everything else, you’re expensive.  You require a lot.  The prescriptions, the compression stockings that didn’t help, the acupuncture, the larger pants - because damn you, on top of everything else, these pills have made me put on some weight.

So, again, I say “f--- you!”  

Because you win, I can’t control you.  I can’t wave a magic wand and make you completely disappear nor can I predict when you’ll hit next.  

But don’t get too cocky.  You haven’t scored a complete victory.  I’m too stubborn to let you win that easily.  For all those times when I feel helpless, hopeless, and powerless, there are the other times.  Recently, I have also seen some moments of light.  I have had some good days or parts of days.  Days when I can walk, pain-free.  So I know it’s still possible.  

Still you’re there.  Always there, and maybe always will be there.  Doesn’t mean I have to like you.  Doesn’t mean I won’t keep fighting you.

So, for putting me through this hell, to my pain, all I can say is “F--- you!”

Sincerely,

Wendy