Dear pain,

Old friend, I’ve known you before I knew what you were. I’ve felt your burning, stabbing, excruciating and unending feeling. I’ve known you more intimately than most people ever will, and I can’t seem to get rid of you, no matter what I do. 

Some things in life are unavoidable, and one of them is you. You’ve followed me like an unwanted ghost, drifting through life with me. 

At 18 months old, I was diagnosed with Reactive Arthritis: a condition that causes constant joint swelling and gives me what feels like never-ending pain. I would have flares where it felt like someone was stabbing a hot knife into the back of my knees and other joints. It’s a struggle to get out of bed most days because of you. Not one day would go by where I didn’t want to just lay down, quit and let you envelop me.

You’ve been there with me through my dark and bright times. You were there when I broke my first bone, and you stayed with me for months until I got better. You were by my side when I broke my foot and still tried to run a mile on it in eighth grade. You made sure I felt each excruciating step. Then, you decided you would come back 10 more times for the other bones I broke. 

We got to know each other well. You were there when I was hospitalized with COVID-19, hardly able to breathe, and you made sure I felt every breath that escaped my lungs and every needle poked in me for tests. 

You showed me there were two sides to you: physical and emotional. I learned that the damage you caused on the outside was nothing compared to what you could do on the inside. 

You were by my side when I was bullied as a child for being different. I was ridiculed for having to deal with you everyday — for them not understanding what I was going through. You made sure I felt alone and different, as if it was my fault for not being like other kids. You showed me how much it hurt to lose someone when I saw my grandpa pass away. You showed me it is possible to lose part of a soul.

I could deal with the physical trauma you caused me, and I could heal those wounds far easier than the ones you opened inside of me. I’m still trying to heal those internal gashes you carved through my soul. I tried my hardest to get rid of you to feel normal. I spent dark, silent nights in my room, pondering my thoughts, deciding if I should end it all to escape. I tried to make it so you didn’t exist, but I’ve learned that you can’t run away from what haunts you. 

So I fought — not because I wanted to, but because I had to. You sparked a fire in me that has made me the person I am today. You made me realize that in order to do what I love most, I have to fight for it and work hard to make sure I can.

You helped me decide that the word “can’t” will not be a part of my vocabulary. I learned it didn’t matter how much pain I was in, it didn’t matter if I felt like someone was stabbing my joints with a hot knife, or if I could barely keep myself balanced; I was going to push through it. It was the mindset I gained from my experiences with you: keep pushing and fighting for what I want — no matter what gets in my way. 

It’s the same philosophy I have today with new problems arising in my life. It’s what I used to help me get through my Type 1 Diabetes diagnosis. I didn’t shy away from the fact; instead, I decided I was going to take it in stride, just like everything else. You kept throwing one thing after another at me; your wrath was ever present when you gave me excruciating pain when I herniated a disk in my back. You refuse to let it rest, but so do I. 

I used to be afraid of you. I hated you and the way you made me feel. I hated that you made me breakdown and cry in front of my father. I hated how you tried to control me and my life, and I hated that I wanted to end it all because of you. 

I’m not afraid of you anymore. I don’t hate you like I used to, and I refuse to let you control me. You may always be a part of me, but you are not what defines me. I won’t let you have a say in what I do or don’t do anymore. I’m grateful for you because you showed me that there are lessons in all of the struggles we go through in life, and it’s up to us to recognize those lessons and take them in stride as we continue to grow every day. 

I will keep fighting through all of the ups and downs, just like you taught me to. I will keep pushing toward my goals, and I won’t let anything — not even you — get in my way. 

Even though you’ll be a part of every chapter of my life, that’s all you’ll ever be: a brief part of my story.

Always, 

Gavin Lambert