Alone

One thing to remember when you deal with chronic illness, especially the invisible kind, is that you can start to feel completely and utterly alone. You're on an island and perhaps people visit, reach out to show concern or help with appointments but they get to leave.

You do not get to leave.

That island is your cave, your rock, but also your anchor. A humongous steel immovable weight that holds you down, never letting you escape. You may forget you're on an island and maybe over time you find some bridges or stepping stones that do let you visit other places, but at the end of a light vacation (or sometimes in the middle of it) you get sucked back to the empty shore of that island. While others pass by and wave you might be sitting there, silently screaming for help.

Others may be on their islands and while you get to wave you never get to meet. You may look out and see very busy islands around you, people laughing and acting as if they are living. Really living.

And even if your pain or major symptoms are intermittent, those flares can be a fucking roller coaster. So fear can accompany those hard times. Even in remission, every annual exam or occassional blood work is a reminder. Island.

The only path to really pull yourself out of the cave is therapy. Forced introspection and vocalizing the weight makes it lighter. No way is that the ONLY tool, it's the toolbox. Or the ship, to keep up the island metaphor. Plenty of things on the ship to do, places to navigate, tools to fix broken things, but you have to remember to go to the ship.

One of my favorite metaphors for hidden stress and dealing with things like emotional burden of working in healthcare, raising a family, surviving with chronic illness, or whatever keeps us from relaxing and enjoying our free time is the Glass of water discussion. To sum up, if you hold onto ANYTHING for too long it will hurt you. Whether it's a physical object like a glass of water, an emotion or a negative thought, it's weight can stop you. Sometimes the only way to put it down is by walking away. With chronic illness, you can't put it down permanently, but breaks are okay. And NOBODY can tell you what that looks like, that you can't, you shouldn't or how best to put it down. Remember that.

I don't go dark for long, so when I start these posts I tend to finish them much later when I'm feeling better (usually because of a snack or a nap). Whether you're still holding your cup or you're smiling again, thanks for reading.

Here's your 80s throw back song to keep you singing and because Ann Wilson is a rock goddess, a woman who recently shared her health struggles, and she has a sister named Nancy which is really cool:

You don't know how long I have wanted
To touch your lips and hold you tight, oh
You don't know how long I have waited
And I was going to tell you tonight

But the secret is still my own
And my love for you is still unknown
Alone
Oh-oh-oh

'Til now, I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone

All Aloooooone

What voice.

-Til the last drop, N