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Something I like to think about is how my body has got me through 100% of the painful days so far. 

For all of the resentment I give my body for being broken, for not working properly, for hurting, for betraying me… it deserves credit for surviving. Survival is pretty much the only comfort there is when you’re chronically ill. I can’t tell myself I will recover. I can’t say I will feel better tomorrow, next week, or even next year. It’s another thing that is taken away, the comfort of recovery, the ability to imagine a future where I am ‘better’. In the midst of agony, I can tell myself it is temporary, but I won’t believe it. Because my pain is not temporary, it’s chronic. That means it doesn’t end, it just becomes different. Worse, maybe. Quieter, hopefully. Gone, never. But I have hope. 

I have hope that a painkiller that doesn’t give me side effects and does take away my pain is discovered. I have knowledge that new video games will be created that I can escape into briefly. And I have thoughts that tell me ‘You’ve survived before, and you can do it again. Your attendance record at life is 100%’