1. Deviation or departure from the normal or common order, form, or rule.
2. One that is peculiar, irregular, abnormal, or difficult to classify
I didn't ever remember inviting in pain. Or the 'lingo' and understanding you learned to have when you went to physical therapy regularly at 16 and then to see neurologists again and again for unrepentent migraines over the course of several years into your twenties. Muscle spasms in my neck and back, chronic issues that only seemed to be resolved through chiropractic treatment, it just didn't make sense for a person who was "young and healthy," but with whom their upper body seemed to always be rebelling against them.
Like I said, I finally found some relief with good chiropractors, both in the physical sense, and in helping me understand at least what was going on in my body. It didn't help me with any long-term sense of hope for living bonded to the way my body always felt: the moments I was without pain were rare compared to living in pain so much I couldn't remember what it was like to feel normal.
Over the years, I've written notebooks full of my take on pain, have pages and pages of journals filled with prayers to God for healing, and held nothing back on the written page. Yet, in real life, I was this happy person who you could hardly ever tell anything was wrong. Unless you got in very close or were my family, chances were you might not have known the clear picture of how I felt day-to-day.
It's not because I'm afraid of what people might say to me. I've heard it all. I've heard the five minute lesson on how a certain stretch will cure all my problems (I'm still looking for that stretch...) I've been asked when was the last time I got in a car accident (funny, I was hit a few years ago, and my Dr.'s hoped that would knock everything into place. It didn't work). I've been told that chiropractors and different treatments just make everything worse (not true, especially in my case).
I notice that pain is a substory in my life, and that's okay. I choose it not to be the main event. Yet, it matters. It matters to talk about; it matters even though right now I'm not living in it deeply like I once was (amazing praise!). I'm not naive to think I'll not experience hard times with pain again (hence the chronic nature..) or with something else that will take time and energy and patience to tell people the truth about what hurts, and even if they don't quite understand, well, it's worth it for some people in your daily life to know your substories.