How Chronic Pain Has Affected My Marriage

Today’s guest Katie Clark writes about the marriage relationship as it is affected by invisible disabilities. She shares some experiences with her husband, Kelley, and how the illnesses impact their marriage.

Check her out at painfully living.com and noticed her play on words. PAINfully living versus painFULLY living.

How Chronic Pain Has Affected My Marriage

By Katie Clark of painfullyliving.com

Kelley and I met at  Camp MUCC (Michigan United Conservation Club).  I was the waterfront director and he taught riflery.  It was there that our common love of being in nature and being active bonded us together.

We’ve been married 36-years.  Together we have built a wonderful life, far from the one that I had experienced as a child of a single mom struggling through life with bipolar and schizophrenia.

Tag Team

As an oldest child with an often incapacitated parent, I was self-sufficient.  Kelley and I had a marriage that was an equal partnership.  We both took care of our children equally.  We both worked full-time. We both did all of the house chores (although each tended to specialize).

Prior to developing Fibromyalgia, I was as active as he was.  After a full day of teaching, I’d come home to a full night of family life.  On the weekends, we’d often do all our house chores of yard work, laundry, and the like, together.  Then, we’d fit in a hike,  family gathering, or attend our kid’s soccer games. 

In the summer, we would go on extended vacations that tended to be both rustic and physical: hiking down the north side of the Grand Canyon, a week-long canoe trip in Killarney Provincial Park, or exploring Isle Royale.

We tended to tag team throughout the years when it came to handling the responsibilities that came with adulthood and family.  Each one knowing the other would be there to pitch in when needed.

Teammate Out of Commission

But, after an extended trip to California after Kelley retired, that all changed. During our drive from MI to CA and back, I began to develop deep muscle pain that never went away, leading to my early retirement in 2019.

Kelley began to do everything. I’d pitch in (like start a load of laundry into the washer), but he’d have to finish it.  Come dinner time, I was just too tired to think of making anything.  Kelley began to assume the role of cook, full-time.

I stayed in bed a lot: hurting, exhausted, and depressed that first year. He’d get the heating pad set up or a magnesium bath.  I’d whimper asking him to massage my tight muscles that felt a bit better when kneaded. 

He began to do walks in the woods more often by himself, or elected not to go. I felt guilty because I knew that he wanted me back to where I had been.  And while he was supportive in all things, I felt a sense of urgency that I needed to find a way to heal.

High-functioning; Still Sick

In so many ways, I have been blessed.  Towards the end of that first horrible year, I was able to attend a 10-week pain program (boot camp of sorts).  In this program I worked with a team of pain specialists: medical doctor, psychologist, PT, and OT.  This led me to become more and more able to function.

Then, I began taking Low Dose Naltrexone.  This April was my one-year anniversary.  To say it has been a game changer for me is an understatement.  To find out more about my journey to functioning at a higher level with LDN read I Did It My Way! One Year of Low Dose Naltrexone for Fibromyalgia.

These things along with many other protocols such as EMDR counseling and working to calm my nervous system have given me the ability to be much more present and involved in daily life. What’s tricky about it is when I am feeling good realizing that I am actually still sick.

One day, as we were kayaking in the calm waters of the morning lake, the gentle sun fed my hopes.  I said to Kelley, “I think I’m really getting better!” I could tell in that moment that he was relieved.  That night, though, as my muscles ached and fog filled my head, he again resigned himself to making us dinner and giving me a massage as I lay on the couch.

Guilt Building Up

Guilt is a big part of getting sick.  Not many want to say it because those around us will say, “Don’t be silly; you’re sick.  It’s not your fault.”  But in the last couple of months, I’ve felt more and more guilty if I’m not pitching in (mostly because I am doing better overall so when I don’t feel well, it’s almost more difficult for me to handle).

Knowing that massaging me was not Kelley’s favorite thing to do, I began to do it myself (not asking him).  I use a Thera Gun to get into the deep ache that covers my body. While it is doable, holding the machine ends up getting that arm and hand in more pain.

Last week, I spent three days with my sister and niece, helping to spray paint a new fence.  It was hard work.  I took breaks: stretching, meditating, and myofascial release, and ended up doing pretty well.  I had decent energy (LDN really had made a huge change) and clarity of thinking.  But, as you can imagine, when I got home, I was tired and pain filled. 

That night, I told him how I was feeling, laying on the couch with the Thera Gun and heating pad.  I didn’t ask for his help.  Secretly, though, I just wanted him to acknowledge that I was hurting,  give me a hug,and  tell me he was sorry that I was in pain.  Maybe even offer to massage.  He didn’t.

Stronger Bond

As I am learning about myself and complex-PTSD, I have found that is often my way with all my relationships.  I want the people in my life to read my mind and notice what I need from them.  Also, I knew if I talked about it with him, he would feel offended because seriously he does so much for me; how in the world could I feel like he was neglecting me.

Okay So, instead, I went to bed pouting to myself.  I know he was flabbergasted as to why I would be sulking. In an attempt to explain myself, I sent him an article that really resonated with me: A SPLIT IN YOUR BEING-COMPLEX TRAUMA (CPTSD) AND THE HIGHLY SENSITIVE PERSON (HSP).

The next day, I asked.  “Did you read that article I sent? It was pretty long.” 

“Yes,” he replied. 

“I’m sorry I was distant last night,” I said. “I was wishing that you would acknowledge that I was hurting.”

“I don’t know how to make you feel better when you’re like that,” he said.

“There’s nothing you can do.  I think all I need is a cuddle.”

We are both people who want to shy away from talking when there’s a problem between us.  We both hate conflict.  Yet, like the way chronic pain has forced me to look inward, my chronic illness has made us work through times like these over and over again.  In the end, our bond is stronger than ever. 

From Katie

A Love Story: Stronger Together

What’s Wrong With Me? Fibromyalgia Diagnosis-Part 1

Families are Complicated: Using DNA Tests to Discover Your History

EMDR Therapy: Rewiring the Fibro Brain

From Connected Carole

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