Before the rain.

It really is true when they say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. The everyday things that I used to take for granted, like waking up in the mornings feeling ready for the day, answering my phone when it rings, being able to decide what to have to eat, what to watch on the TV or what to wear that day (although admittedly, sometimes, I did struggle with my wardrobe choices but only because I have way too many clothes but not enough new ones!) Life had it’s challenges but I could navigate through them fairly successfully.

Then suddenly, one day was set to shake my entire world. I’d struggled with depression before, but like everything else, I’d managed to get myself through it and carry on. This time is different. One experience in my life was about to change everything.

Guillain-Barre Syndrome.

Until that day in May last year, I had never even heard of it. I’d never had to spend even a single night in a hospital bed. Almost overnight I’d lost the ability to walk around, lift my arms in the air, or even just to smile. The pain was much worse than anything I’d experienced before. This illness had taken hold of me, and life as I knew it came to an abrupt end. Days, weeks, months passed by and I watched as life continued on for everyone else, everyone except me. I was that person you never think you’ll be because it always happens to someone else. Looking back it’s not surprising that now, a year later, I’m struggling with depression. When you lose control over your health, over your ability to perform everyday tasks, over your ability to look after yourself, it makes you question everything. Nothing is certain in life, not a single thing. Deep down we know this of course but like most of us I chose to ignore it.

So this is my story of survival, of the days I’m feeling ok and the days I say I’m ok but I’m really not. I’m hoping it helps me to understand and accept how I’m feeling and in turn that might help someone else who reads what I write and thinks, yes, thats how I feel too and I’m glad I’m not alone. I’m glad that under the rainclouds there’s someone else fighting to keep their umbrella up just like me.

Photo by Nick Scheerbart on Unsplash



9 thoughts on “Before the rain.

  1. bipolarattention says:

    Hollywood has a lot of people thinking that survival stories are hanging onto a cliff face with a family of 5 in your other hand… it may well be, that may well be difficult… but struggles like yours are powerful.

    Just because there’s no medal to win your battle doesn’t mean there isn’t a prize… keep it going, you’ll get there

    Liked by 1 person

    • undertherainclouds says:

      Thankyou for your lovely comment. I think it’s all about a persons level of perception. One’s persons struggle can seem to be insignificant to another. My experience is just that, my experience. There will be many people with far worse struggles than mine, but for me, it’s a battle none the less. I hope others can relate to what I write and perhaps feel less alone in their own battles.


      • bipolarattention says:

        I say never worry about comparisons… just whats inside. Situations can make people sad, deep down is what we all need to fight.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Ahdad says:

    One of my dearest friends were diagnosed in April this year, and she is still in recovery. What a shocking disease this is! It’s heartbreaking to see her fight her way through it.


  3. abeltorun says:

    I had Guillain Barre Syndrome 5 years ago.. I was paralyzed from my waist to my toes. I am now running marathons again and just qualified for the Boston. Don’t give up. I still have hard days.. but it’s all a part of your story.

    Liked by 1 person

    • undertherainclouds says:

      Thankyou for sharing your experience. I’m sorry you had to go through this horrible and frightening illness. Well done on your marathon achievements that’s such an inspiration. You must be a very brave and determined person. I wish you all the best for the future 😊

      Liked by 1 person

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