Pain. One of the elements of life that can make you crumble or make you resilient enough to eradicate every ounce of pain that may circulate in your veins. Pain can be mental or physical, however, the chronic illness that I possess makes me suffer in both ways. Rheumatoid arthritis is when “the body’s immune system attacks its own tissue, including joints; it affects joint linings, causing painful swelling over long periods of time, the inflammation associated with rheumatoid arthritis can cause bone erosion and joint deformity.” Living with this particular illness has forced me to be brave, and the illness acts as an reminder for me to know that there’s some things in life that we can not control.

I felt the time passing by so fast. Fearing the future. The aftermath of the inevitable. Instantly, the darkness shadowed my colorful masterpieces. Noticing how I’m the broken piece of glass that is blinded by her own reflection. Instantly feeling like I’m going to disappear with the dust and atoms that exist in space. I felt like I didn’t belong in this universe we humans apparently live and adapt in. At that moment, I knew something was wrong. I knew it would have to take more than a miracle to recover from this pain. Tuesday, November 11, 2015, the drastic day. The day of my foot surgery. I could hear my heart pumping. I could feel my veins popping out of my wrists. I could feel my body was increasing kinetic energy due to the amount of stress and dreadful anxiety that I felt. On my car ride with my captivating family, I was crying so badly. I was extremely scared of the operation and going through the experience. Then we finally arrived at the hospital. Slowly walking upstairs, I immediately hugged my family, in order to feel the warmth and comfort flow in my body. To make sure that I was alive. After going through the medication that they provided for me to remain calm, it was time for the surgery. I remember that my brother, mother, father and grandmother were scared and extremely emotional, but were so altruistic by providing me with the best support. All I remember is that I was headed to the surgical room, had me lie on the table, and administered anesthesia. Then I completely blacked out like an unfinished painting. Hours later, I woke up in the recovery room. I was filled with so much nostalgia and euphoria to see my family after the operation. They were so proud of me because I was so resilient. After staying at the hospital for a couple of days, I headed home. It was the last full day to spend with mother. The next morning, my brother and I had to say goodbye to our mother, as she was departing back to Pennsylvania. I was extremely blessed to have her come to my surgery. At that moment, I actually felt the mother’s love that I never felt before. It was so difficult for me to say goodbye. I didn’t want to. I wanted her to stay, to be with me. However, after my mother departed, my aunt and grandmother were there to support me through the whole experience, and to bolster me while I was immobile. Of course, going through a major surgery, I had to take medication to alleviate the pain that I was feeling. During the stressful days, I began having no appetite due to feeling pain in my stomach (due to the strong medication that I was taking). I became so melancholy and maudlin. I loathed that I wasn’t independent enough to do simple and difficult tasks. I felt like I was burdening all of my significant family members and friends. As days passed by, I felt like was disconnected with the world. I barely had a social life. I felt like I didn’t have any friends anymore. I felt so alone in this despair and bone-breaking pain. I loathed the silence. I loathed feeling alive and feeling my mind becoming so overly heavy and the emptiness was weighing me down on the pavement. I felt myself sinking down with the growing roots. I felt so despondent and alienated by own self and the pain. The pain possessed all of the autonomy. This was only the exposition of unfolding my bloodcurdling journey. As days passed by, I felt like was disconnected with the world. I barely had a social life. I felt like I didn’t have any friends anymore. I felt so alone in this despair and bone- breaking pain. I loathed the silence. I loathed feeling alive and feeling my mind becoming so overly heavy and the emptiness was weighing me down on the pavement. I felt myself sinking down with the growing roots.

As a couple weeks passed by, my weight decreased drastically due to not consuming the nutrients that I needed to function properly. I couldn’t eat because of the medication was making me feel sick. I loathed looking at myself or going in the shower. I was so malnourished and disgusting. Every time I observed myself in the mirror, I always saw a skeleton in my view. I cried myself to sleep each night. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Especially when my father and I go into huge arguments about my weight loss and loss of appetite. He began to believe that I was just being stubborn and having this desire or temptation to lose weight. Every day, my father and I fought. I was drowning in my own tears. I wanted to escape, but didn’t know how. I was in so much pain physically, emotionally, and mentally. As the days continued to pass by, my body continued to ache, lose weight and became extremely drained and malnourished. So my family and I decided that it would be best to go to the hospital, get my appetite back, and my mental stability back into place. I had a huge desire to discover the other half of me, even though I could not see it visually. I felt a positive aura lingering within my austere and hollow atmosphere, but I did not believe that I had possessed the strength to reach out towards ambition and positivity. And I felt that I had no desire to obtain ambition and positivity. When I was hospitalized, I was so fearful. I felt so alone and useless. I wanted to disappear and disguise with the wind currents. I could not deal with the physical and psychological pain. I was so tired with burdening my friends and family with all of my personal predicaments. They deserved so much more than observing me in pain and destructing my own mind with negative coping skills and mindsets. I did not care about the pain and emptiness making me whole with its ounces of despair and venom. I wanted those particular elements to conquer me in order to cease my pain. My existence. It was digging the deeper layers of myself; layers that I was extremely scared to acknowledge. Each day at the hospital, I was making some progress with recovery. Some days were tough than others, but I was still trying, no matter how much pain I was in. Then, one day, my doctor revealed that I was diagnosed with a major depressive disorder, anxiety and rheumatoid arthritis. I instantly was in tears when he announced that I had rheumatoid arthritis. I did not want to believe him, and I strongly felt that it was impossible for me to have arthritis at such a young age. It felt like the negativity just kept winning and conquering me every step of my journey. I just wanted all of this end. I just wanted to be happy with myself and life. I just wanted the pain to stop.

Even though it was so difficult for me to adjust to this new setting and to remain ambitious and positive in the hospital, I blossomed beautifully. I made so much god damn progress. I met so many incredible people at the hospital, they became my inspirations; my motivation to continue to possess this stride of moving forward with my life. After being discharged from the hospital, I got adjusted to the academic and social setting again. It was so lovely to see all of my friends and feel connected with them again. However, during that time, I was still experiencing horrible pain in my body. I was terrified. As months flew by, the day of the ACT testing, I couldn’t take this agony and pain. I was filled with fear and despair. But the doctor provided me with some mediation to bolster me to function incredibly well physically. Ever since then, I got so much better each day. My family, friends, and I were so astonished about how this medication was a miracle for me. I never felt so much better physically and mentally in my life. Now I am here. Alive. Breathing. And so damn grateful to have my family and friends to support me along way. I couldn’t thank them enough. I love them unconditionally. They’re the whole reason why I am alive today. Years ago, I would’ve been buried somewhere. My existence would have ceased. But I am here, continuing to make more progress and accumulating so much success in my life. I finally see the beaming light shining in my view in my tunnel vision. I can finally see the light in my future. And I can’t wait to inspire others with my story and guide them to a better path if they’re struggling with anything that comes in their way. I am here for a particular reason. And maybe that’s my reason. To inspire and guide others. To make a huge imprint onto so many hearts. To make a huge difference in this world that we live in.

Living with rheumatoid arthritis has forced me to be resilient, and the illness acts as an reminder for me to know that there’s some things in life that we can not control. Even though I struggle with accepting and dealing with experiencing chronic pain every day, it has made me so much stronger. It made me realize that I conquer any struggle in my path in the present and future. It really showcases my passion and bravery to continue to live life happily, and to continue to diffuse my story in order to linger positivity, strength, and understanding towards others that suffer with chronic illnesses as well. Also, it displays my strength that I possess in order to prevent myself from living in fear. Now I adore the silence. I adore feeling alive. Especially when it's 2 a.m. and I’m sitting in my dark room. Playing all the songs I love the most. And the world seems so quiet. So calm, collected, and clear as water flowing in streams.My mind feels so light; the emptiness isn’t weighing me down on the pavement. I’m not sinking down with the growing roots. My heart isn’t crushed. I feel more connected with the world. Even though we’re distant, I still feel like our souls coexist. I feel like all of the people of my past and present are close to my heart.Timeline of events consuming me.Leaving me empty, but yet whole. Once you’re complete, you indulge so much passion, insight, and strength, that you reveal an incredible change that sets your free from all of the pain and suffering.