Autumn has come with a hard sharp edge. My body mirrors the outside temperature – turning cold wet days into avalanches of pain.
I used to love autumn with the rains that turned the forest green. The season slowly turning into the silence of winter. Deep nature shared with friends, just memories now.
How do I interact with people and not let the conversation be stained by this autumn pain? The pain has become so pervasive it’s become the wallpaper of my life. This is the autumn wallpaper.
This “wallpaper pain” is not the excruciating pain that brings me to the floor or keeps me up all night. Wallpaper pain fogs my mind and drains the colors from my thoughts. It makes me forget to take my medications and forget that I can occupy other rooms with other wallpapers.
Wallpaper pain is not depression, although it is related. Depression feels like more of a state of being, while wallpaper pain is directly related to a medium level of pain. As I’m writing this, my pain level is increasing from sitting too long. So the wallpaper pain is actually decreasing as my physical pain is increasing towards barely tolerable.
I have a deep and strong dislike of wallpaper pain. It robs me of the ability to be creative, and what’s much worse: it makes me sharp with others. Wallpaper pain robs me of the ability to be the person I want to be. It robs me of the days and hours of my life and gives me nothing in return.
When I am in intense pain I can use it to explore the nature of pain or of my view of God. When I am in little to no pain my mind is clear to be creative: I can write, I can develop new ideas, I can interact freely with people, and sometimes I can hear God’s voice.
When I live with wallpaper pain it’s so very hard to do any of these things.