The Experiment

A friend of mine once said to me that when her mother passed away, she wished she could wear some sort of badge, informing people of this event. Because it hurts so badly, and we walk around appearing perfectly fine on the outside, yet on the inside we’re falling apart, just trying to get through the day, facing this new reality. 

For many years, this is what it’s felt like to live with chronic and severe facial pain. I remember so clearly a day in August, twelve years ago. I went to church that day even though I was in extreme pain. I sat crying quietly during the worship, tears streaming down my face, because I wanted to sing, yet I couldn’t open my jaw wide enough. I remember the first time I went to meet my neurologist, absolutely beside myself, telling him that I just wanted to be able to smile again. I sobbed in his office for the loss of who I was. I was a joy-filled person, yet some days, it was painful even to smile.  Years of pain, and the fear of new pain, took an emotional toll. In many areas of my life, I retreated.  

I self- protected and isolated.  I longed for a badge that would let people know how badly I was hurting.  

Fast forward to today. As I’ve shared before, thanks to acupuncture, prayer/meditation, healthy eating, exercise, and anti-seizure medication, my illness has been mostly controlled.

A little over two years ago, I began an experiment. The better I felt, the more I experimented. For every pain free day, I gave life my very best. I felt (and still feel) that God has richly blessed me and when I’m well, I don’t want to waste a single day. And so, with the help of others, I started to rehab my life.

I got healthy.

I went back to Weight Watchers and got back to my goal weight. I haven’t been this physically fit in 10 years.

I put myself out there.

I started a new job. Nate and I joined a Bible Study group. I opened myself to new friendships.  

I leaped out of my comfort zone.

Last summer, my family and I went to Guatemala to build a home for a family in need. This was a big leap of faith for me. Yet I chose (and still choose) faith over fear. I could have feared the many pain triggers that waited for me in Guatemala. Unknown temperatures, cultural differences, long work days, job site noise/vibrations, trying new skills, plane flights, sun exposure. I could have stayed home. Yet I went, and it was the best trip of my life.

I jumped.

When we came home from Guatemala, I felt encouraged to continue my experiment. I felt like God had given me gifts and passions I wasn’t sharing and while I was feeling well, I wanted to share them. So I became a Weight Watchers leader. Due to my absolute fear of public speaking, this might have been a greater risk than going to Guatemala. No…seriously. Yet here I am, leading classes and loving every single interaction I have with others who share in the desire to change their lives.

I stumbled.

Last Wednesday through Saturday, I had one of the worst neuralgia pain attacks I’ve ever had. It landed me in bed for days and turned my world upside-down.  It was like someone shooting a gun in my head over and over again, every few seconds. Relentless, punishing pain. Pain where you don’t dare move your head for fear of triggering more pain. Pain where all you can do is lay in bed and silently cry, begging God for mercy. Yet crying triggers more pain. Pain where you wish for death, because death brings relief. Excruciating, irrational, thrashing pain.

I self- protected and isolated.  I rested, medicated, slept and prayed. And finally, a week later, the pain is gone.  

And so I find myself again, at a crossroad between faith and fear. Feeling like someone who has been beaten and is learning how to trust again. Knowing deep down that faith is an open hand not a clenched fist.  Knowing that I just need to reach out and grab it. Knowing that it’s mine for the taking.  Knowing that with faith I can continue this experiment called life.  

I choose faith. Because God chose me.

Last week, I randomly opened the bible to Psalm 139 verse 13. For you created my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. And on that same day, Psalm 139 verse 13 was my You Version bible verse of the day.

God chose me. He’s got my back. He is good. Life is good. Enough said.

Make the choice. Commit to the choice. Ask for help. Continue with courage.

Hugs and friendship,

Tara