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I was thinking tonight that the reason I started this blog was two-fold. First, I wanted to share my experiences with chronic pain and with life, with anyone who might benefit from reading this. For someone to see that they are not alone, their experience is not all that unique, and there are those of us who really do care about what happens to them.
Secondly, I wanted to share my journey, my experiences with my family and friends, some of which have been with me every step of the way, but still don’t really know or understand all that has transpired, particularly the things deeply rooted inside me.
But then it occurred to me that maybe this had become something more. Just what I am struggling to identify but have mostly been thinking that as it develops, it is becoming the story of my life, which goes back to my second point, except that I never really intended to get into some of the areas in which I have digressed to. And instead of something that chronicles a certain chapter in my life, this has become more and more all the time a history of my life. Even though it is far from orderly, far from chronological, it is taking on a quality that will hopefully help those closest to me, and particularly my boys, know me and know where I came from and in the end what kind of person I am and also what kind of life I have lived.
I was reminded recently how very important it is to glean as much information from our aging relatives as we can, while we can. My father who will be 86 next month is a great story-teller. And in talking to him I have learned much about where him and the rest of my family have come from, the experiences they shared, what we all have in common and how we are all very different. And I have been reminded that my window of opportunity to chronicle these moments becomes more and more precious with each passing day. He is the last of his generation. No siblings remain. The cousins who do remain don’t really know him or any of us for that matter. We have been sort of a family divided in may ways. Loyalties to one brother or the other came out of an incident that most of us younger generation knew nothing of, only the fallout that subsequently pulled family members one way or the other.
So what does any or all of this have to do with my blog, with chronic pain? Well, like any of the stories that make up a life, a family history, whatever, chronic pain is so tightly woven into the fabric of who I am and where I have been, that it can’t be overlooked. And it is part of my story, one that I need to share. And if only one other person ever reads any of this, I feel like my efforts have not been in vain. And one day, future generations of my family can look back on this, on the stories, on the experience, and maybe understand a bit more about who I was.
I was reminded recently why it is so important to write things down. I was having a discussion with my brother on the origins of the Old Testament. How the oral traditions of the ancients were finally transcribed into what we consider today to be the Old Testament. But that how for a very long time, the stories were passed down by repeating them to future generations. It made me think about how very important it is for us to leave something concrete for our future generations. That no matter how wonderful it is to hear the stories related by an older adult, parent, grandparent, it is just as important or more so to write it down. To make it available for everyone who cares to listen.
So it is my hope that in time, I will be able to clean this up, put it in a better, more orderly fashion, and have something for them to hold onto for many years to come.
