As a moderator of an online forum for chronic pain sufferers, I can tell you that there’s nothing worse than finding someone who is desperately posting about how they’re going to kill themselves. I’ve had several pass through in the last few months and I’ve sat down with a few of them to lend a friendly ear. Complete strangers, mind you, tell me their stories and their frustrations and tell me why they’ve lost all hope or that they’re about to.

I am not trained in suicide prevention in any way. I do, however, deeply care about everyone I encounter. I’ve had some of them call my personal cell #, I’ve had some of them promise to email me in the morning after they’ve slept some, I’ve written essays back and forth with them so they can truly spill their guts and be heard by someone who is unbiased and someone who won’t judge them. I never thought I would be taking on that kind of responsibility.

I don’t even know these people but I know their struggle. And I love them for it. Fibro isn’t just your body attacking itself, it’s your mind too. There are many mental obstacles to overcome and some are natural parts of the grieving process. And I’ve been through them all too.

Denial

This, for me, was the stage where I thought I was fine. I refused to seek medical help for my struggles and I just told myself that everyone dealt with this kind of pain, I was just weaker than the rest for letting it bother me.

Post-Diagnosis I just thought my doctor was full of shit. Clearly there were tests she hadn’t run. She had missed something. This disease didn’t exist.

Anger

Once reality set in post-diagnosis, I was furious. Why me? I used to be an athlete! I had such a promising career and so many dreams that were within reach. Why me? How unfair is this shit? I have to deal with this forever? What kind of fuckery is this? All my friends around me get to lead normal, healthy lives and I’m stuck here looking at Walmart’s cane selection.

Bargaining

I started the self-destructive path towards bargaining. My list of If Only’s grew each day.

If only I had seen the signs earlier

If only I hadn’t gained weight (was very heavy back then)

If only I hadn’t pushed myself too far with tennis

If only I hadn’t experienced traumas X, Y, and Z

I felt like I needed control back and I started trying to figure out where it all went wrong. I was starting to get a little desperate and my anger still colored my bargaining with bits of rage and self-hatred.

Depression

I don’t know if I would say I was ever “depressed” after getting diagnosed. I was just outright sad. I grieved the loss of a healthy life and physical activities I once enjoyed so much. I randomly cried in my car several times; sitting in a silent box accompanied by only your own thoughts can be overwhelming. When a doctor tells you that you have an incurable disease that will last forever, that will most likely be progressive and possibly degenerative, it’s fucking devastating. I used to think I was so strong and invincible and I would even thank my lucky stars for being so healthy and alive. I never took my good years for granted, it just didn’t help the bad times from sucking all the same. I cried a lot. Angry, bitter, hateful, depressed, desperate tears.

Acceptance

I knew I was in the stage of acceptance when I caught myself thinking: If anybody had to have these horrible diseases, it ought to be me. Not because I hated myself, but because I knew I was determined enough to handle it. I comforted myself in thinking that the universe chose ME to bear this burden because it knew I could do it. I’ve been peaceful about things ever since. I’ve found ways to empower myself now that I know my general limits. I pride myself on what little progress I make because it’s the fuel that keeps me going. If I wallowed all day, I’d be dead by now.

I’ve never considered suicide as an option. It’s a grave reality for a lot of people, though. Not everyone reaches acceptance. A lot of people have way more factors to their situation than I did, like children, spouses, financial problems, etc. And I think of these people often. I hope they’re doing okay, I hope their families have reached out to support them, and I hope that they know they are loved.

The National Suicide Prevention Hotline is 1-800-273-8255. They are available 24 hours a day and they have an online chat option. If you or a loved one has ever considered suicide, please call. And if you’re reading this, please message me if you want someone to share your struggles with. Nobody has to bear the burden of chronic pain alone.

-Elle