Invisible in a visible world, life with a chronic illness

So, I did it. I went back to work.  Cue the confetti, the “You’re amazing!” texts,   and the Facebook post with 57 likes. People were proud; they really were. And part of me? Well, even part of me was proud, too. But here’s what no one talks about when they cheer you on the crushing weight of feeling like it’s still not enough. Let’s backtrack after years of managing my chronic pain and illness with the efficiency of a world-class CEO. I was teaching classes on Living a healthy life with chronic pain, and I was walking the walk. I had made it.  I had been pacing myself like a pro (or so I thought), carefully balancing the delicate ecosystem that was my daily life.  I thought I was finally ready to tackle part-time work again.  So when I returned to work, everyone acted like I had just conquered Everest. My doctor practically beamed when she was told the news, as if I had unlocked the ultimate level of healing. “Look at you!” she said with a smile that was j...

  Let’s talk about the joys of living with an invisible disability. By “joys,” of course, I mean the daily battles with your own body, managing skeptical glances from strangers, and that internal voice whispering, "Are you really that disabled?" You know, the good stuff. As someone juggling more chronic illnesses than I can count (including a part-time relationship with my wheelchair), I’ve often found myself asking, "Am I disabled enough ?" It’s a weird place to be in when you feel like you don’t quite fit in with either the able-bodied or disabled worlds. Let’s dive into why this happens and why, spoiler alert, you’re absolutely disabled enough —whether you’re sporting a cast, a cane, or just trying to make it through the day with a brain fog thick enough to rival pea soup. Society’s Idea of Disability: “You Don’t Look Sick” Ah, yes. The classic line. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me, “You don’t look sick,” I’d be rolling in enough cash to finally...

If you have a chronic illness, you’ve probably perfected the fine art of self-gaslighting . You know, when your body is screaming in pain, but your brain’s over here like, “Eh, it’s probably nothing serious. Just walk it off… slowly… or, you know, crawl.” Let me set the scene: It’s a random Tuesday. You wake up, and your knees feel like they’ve been switched out with those of an 80-year-old circus performer who’s had a very rough career. You try to stand, and your hips crack louder than a microwave popcorn bag. But what do you tell yourself? “It’s probably just because I slept funny.” Ah, yes, sleeping. The most dangerous extreme sport for people with chronic pain. The Weather Blame Game Self-gaslighting really kicks in during the colder months. Your fingers are swollen, your joints are stiff, and getting out of bed is an Olympic event. But instead of accepting that this is just the fibromyalgia/arthritis life, what do you do? “It’s just the weather! When it warms up, I’ll be fine!” Sp...

Let me tell you something, friends: I hit the jackpot. No, not the kind that comes with tropical vacations and the ability to buy an island. I’m talking about the chronic illness lottery. The kind of jackpot that’s like, “Congrats! You get an all-expenses-paid trip to exhaustion, joint pain, and spontaneous naps! And guess what? You get a constant daily top-up, so you never run out!” It’s the lottery no one wants to win, but here I am, your lucky winner, proudly clutching my prize of daily fatigue, a handful of medications that sound like they belong in a science fiction novel and an exclusive membership to the “I Cancel Plans 5 Minutes Before” club. I know you're all so very jealous. Getting diagnosed with chronic illness is like playing the world’s worst game show. “Spin the wheel! Is it fibromyalgia? Chronic Fatigue Syndrome? Rheumatoid arthritis? Oh wait, you get ALL of them! Cue the confetti!” It’s like being handed a party bag full of issues, except instead of fun little toys...

Look, I get it. When people see me rollin' (still quoting Chamillionaire, thank you very much), they start whispering: "But I saw her walking last week!" or “Why does she use a wheelchair if she can stand?” And I’m here to set the record straight—not just for me, but for the whole fam. Yes, I can walk. Sometimes I even strut. But let me tell you, when chronic pain and fatigue hit, it’s less of a strut and more of a limp, followed by me dramatically flopping into the nearest chair like I’ve just completed the Boston Marathon. That’s where my wheelchair comes in—saving me from endless exhaustion and saving my family from watching me suffer through another outing. Let’s start with chronic pain, the unwanted plus-one to everything I do, is the worlds most unwanted house guest. It’s like a car alarm that won’t turn off. And let me tell you, walking only cranks the volume up. My husband, who loves to tinker with everything from engines to electronics (and dreams of adding rocke...

  Welcome! To my little slice of chaos, my record for all time!  If you’ve stumbled upon this blog by accident or sheer curiosity, grab a coffee (or something more substantial) and settle in because things are about to get real. As my 20-year-old daughter would say,  "Let's spill some Tea."  I’m a 45-year-old mom with more health issues than a WebMD search history. Seriously, If I had a punch card for doctor’s visits, I’d have earned a free vacation by now. Chronic fatigue, pain, Short Bowel Syndrome, Failed Spinal Fusion, Rheumatoid Arthritis and a slew of other issues? Check. But hey, I still manage to laugh—most days—when I’m not busy lying down for the fourth time before lunch. Christmas 2024 Me, Magoo, & Fish Let me introduce you to my family, who keep things... interesting . First up, my husband " Fish," aka the “Mad Scientist of the House.” If something has screws, wires, or gears, chances are it’ll end up in our garage in pieces. Why buy new when you...