Think of the most painful thing you've felt and multiply that by 50. That was what my pain was for a year. I had never felt anything like it in my life.

In the beginning of May 2015 is when it all started, my pain began as an uncomfortable feeling in my lower left forearm. By April 2016 it had spread to both of my entire arms and the pain was excruciating. Between May and December I visited multiple doctors: neurologists, orthopedics, rheumatologists, chiropractors, alike. None of the doctors that I went to could figure out what was wrong. I went through so many tests including, but not limited to multiple blood tests, x-rays and MRI's, but I had a clean bill of health. It was a mystery. At this point, I would come home from school and either go to my room or the basement to sleep as I was unable to do anything else and it was the only place where I was allowed to be pain free. Along with no longer hanging out with friends, I gave up the other things I loved to do because I was unable to do those activities. One of the worst feelings of that period was watching someone do what I loved and realizing I could possibly never be able to again. During that time, I didn't have any other outlet and so I turned to writing.

Why can no one see

The pain I drag around

It's not a story I made up

To get attention

People say they understand

But they are just trying to make me

Feel better

However

Their lies won't work

Because I know the truth

No one cares about each other

They just try to make others happy

So they can feel better about themselves

Everyone around me shrugs my pain away

Unconsciously

Knowing that it's not their problem

They act like they care

But they don't know the pain I feel

Physical and emotional

Feeling powerless and useless

Let alone not able to do what makes you happy

Why do I act happy around people

Cause I know they don't care about my pain

Why is it when things seem to be getting better

When you are in the light

Someone pulls you back to the darkness

Month after month

So many doctors

But I still utter the words

"I'm Fine"

To everyone around me

No one seeing the battle fighting against the tears

Eventually my doctors started asking if I was okay mentally and other questions along those lines as as they too were at a loss. They figured since they couldn't diagnose me that I was the one at fault, that I was solely causing it. And after all of the doctors repeated such questions I began to wonder, "what's wrong with me", "why can't I make the pain go away", and my personal favorite - where I would look down at my arms and say - "if I could stop the pain, I would have". Over time the pain got worse and there was nothing I could do about it as each question had been left unanswered. Then one day during Spanish class I looked down at my phone and everything changed. I received a text from my mom that said "I think I found something. Look up Amplified Musculoskeletal Pain Syndrome, aka AMPS." I almost cried from being so overjoyed as my doctors practically gave up on me. And unironically, the person that never gave up on me - my mother - correctly diagnosed me.

It was like someone took what I had been saying and wrote about it

But there was a difference

That person knew what was wrong

They knew what caused the pain

What haunted me for ten months

I just hope it isn't some dream for me

to snap back to reality at any moment

However it wasn't over yet, I had a long road ahead of me still. There wasn't a pill or some type of drug that would fix AMPS. The treatment was either an in-patient or out-patient program where the doctors put you through multiple therapies, including physical and occupational therapy. Nevertheless, there are only five hospitals in the United States that had this program. Luckily one of them was only an hour and a half away. When I met with the four doctors that would be evaluating me, they gave me a physical and asked about my home life and any stresses that were in it at the time. The main cause of AMPS is stress as well as keeping everything in and not letting it out. At the end they asked the question, "Are you ready for the treatment?" because it was not going to be an easy process, the first week and a half would be excruciatingly painful. I was ready to wake up and not feel pain immediately so I said yes. However, my insurance wouldn't pay for the special in-patient treatment that I needed so I had to do the less intense out-patient program. Fortunately, my AMPS is not as bad as it is some people, so after eight weeks of out-patient therapies I was finally pain-free. I was able to do the things I love again and I am back to the person I was before this, but stronger.

Yes there are still moments when the AMPS reoccur, but this is not irregular as they are mostly brought on by stress which is a near constant in every teenager's life. However, now that I am aware of my strengths and weaknesses, I can work on making my surroundings a healthier place for me to live. I know my coping mechanisms, I know the tell-tale signs of the AMPS rearing its ugly head. The only difference, this time, is I'm ready for it.