Chronic Illness and Grief

Chronic illness and grief.  Something nobody talks about and yet something so many people are dealing with.  I’m dealing with.  And I can be in any of the five stages of grief on any given day. Most days I’m in the acceptance category – I know what’s wrong, I’m attacking it head on  and know what I need to do to manage this. I’m in control and doing great.  Other days/moments/weeks, I may fluctuate between anger and sadness.  I hate this illness. I hate what it has done to my body.  I hate the relapses.  I hate not knowing when I’m going to have a relapse.  I hate not being in control…  Why me?  Why?  Why would God allow this?  Am I being punished?  Are all of us in our various forms of suffering being punished?  What is the purpose?  What is the message in all of this? It’s not fair, I don’t understand and I am angry.  I lost my ability to pray.  I just can’t.  I feel broken.  And weak. And ashamed.  Having a chronic illness is lonely and frightening.  I mean who do you talk to when struggling with a chronic illness?  Who?  Who will really understand?  What can anyone say to make me feel better anyway? And, really, this is my battle and mine alone. Something I have to fight on my own.  At least that’s how I feel sometimes.  I push myself.  Hard.  Probably harder than I should to be normal.  To feel normal.  To keep up. Other than my close family and friends, nobody really knows the physical or emotional pain I experience on any given day because I’m good at “faking it.”  I’m a pro.  We are all pros at this because we want so much to have our lives back.  Because there is a sort of shame in having an illness that is invisible to the outside world.  And so I share my story.  Because I know I’m not alone.  Because in the midst of my grief, I feel this need to help others.  And maybe that’s the purpose. MY purpose. I don’t know.  But there has to be something to all of this.  So I will share my story.  If I can help even one person, then maybe I also help myself.