Love and Chronic Illness

When I was a child, curled up and in pain, my mother would always tell me the same thing: that everyone is in physical/emotional pain at some point or another, and that I was just the type that did all the suffering at the start of my life, instead of being scattered throughout. Come the latter part of my life, I should be all sunshine and roses.

This thought got me through a lot of really tough times.

When I get hopeless and things get too bad, I regularly look back to this idea with love. Lots of love. In fact, even though this idea is likely complete fallacy, it is a beautiful concept, and one I hold near and dear to my heart.

You would think that chronic illness would breed hate and negativity. You could be right. Many of us get angry, get hopeless, and give up. I would be lying if I said I haven't reacted in all of those ways at times.

But to be honest, it has brought me more love than I ever thought I would have. I love my family. They pick me up, both emotionally and financially. I was lucky enough to eventually meet a guy who was used to chronic illness, and who wasn't scared, ashamed, or grossed out by it. That kind of support is extremely hard to find. Is the relationship hard at times when one person is too ill to put in their half of the work? Sure. But it/he is worth every second.

I have been taught physical and emotional pain to such a degree that I feel it in other people. I like to think that my capacity to love has grown tenfold. I embrace what is left of my mind and want to lend a helping hand.

Chronic illness has given me passion. Something to fight for. And for that, even though it is often a miserable existence, I am thankful.

xoxo,

Annie