In the flicker of an eye everything can change.
Or at least everything can begin to look different from the outside.
The past six months were spent so focussed on getting a job. I was certain it was the final piece of the puzzle – if I could just find a job where my R.A was accepted, decent pay etc. I would be great again, I would be O.K. Life would be back on track and I could be happy.
It was the only thing I could think about. I was certain it would be that simple: Get a job = all of life’s problems solved.
I have been working for two weeks now. I am exceptionally grateful for the job i have. Actually, grateful doesn’t even scratch the surface of describing how I feel about the opportunity I have been given and the circumstances surrounding it.
I cannot even believe I get to go there every day, in that beautiful building, surrounded by a lovely, professional, warm, compassionate close team who have accepted me as ‘one of them’. In my wildest dreams I could not have imagined a future career for myself half as good as what I have found myself in.
As the first two weeks passed… and as the excitement lead to exhaustion and I caught my first virus and my R.A symptoms have come on ten-fold again from me doing too much… well reality has set in.
I can get a job. I can be in the happy marriage I am in. I can make my son laugh and play board games with him. I can eat healthy and lose weight. I can save up and visit the family I am missing, I can do all those things.
But the R.A… it stays. It’s still there in the night. I lay there, counting down the hours, knowing the 5:30am alarm cant be far off, but unable to doze off at the agonising throb in all the joints of my fingers, hands and wrists.
The R.A is still there on the weekends, the same weekends I count down to all week – excited at the abundance of possibility, the opportunities to do fun things with my family and everything else I feel certain the weekend will behold. But then Friday afternoon comes and I collapse in bed, my husband puts his hand on my forehead and almost cries at the fire that meets his skin. My collarbones and shoulder joints ache in a way that is heavy and seems to push me into the ground beneath me.
I wake up Saturday morning feeling much better and so we venture out “oh what a day this will be, a family adventure” we excitedly chatter as we drive along. I get a good hour before I start to crash, sometimes two. I try to soldier on and not bother anyone but they can see and they try to pretend they aren’t disappointed. I can see my husbands heart break for me.
There are good days – there definitely are. But the hard days seem to have been so much more abundant for this whole two year R.A thing, so far. It is hard to see how things will ever be any different.
So as with anything in life I do all we really can do in this type of situation. I just keep trying and keep walking and keep moving forward and keep trying to pretend, in between the days where it all becomes too much. Then when I have a day like that I wait until the night and I take myself to bed, or the shower and i just let myself cry it out.
Then I start again.
And the R.A is still there.