You Won the Lottery! Really, WOW!! Wait what is the catch?

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, it’s more like, “Here’s some joint pain, a dash of brain fog, and oh, don’t forget that delightful feeling where your body decides to stop functioning at 2 p.m. every day!”

And let’s not forget the endless parade of doctors who throw in their two cents like, “Well, have you tried yoga?”  As if doing a downward dog will magically cure me. Sure, Karen, let me just stretch away my literal disability.

 

I used to think of myself as a bit of a superhero. Not the “flying through the air” type, but you know, the “I can juggle a job, family, and social life” kind. Turns out, chronic illness turns you into a superhero too—except my superpower is moving in slow motion.

You want me to get up from the couch? Well, let me summon the strength of Thor and the patience of a saint because it’s gonna take a while. Climbing stairs? That’s basically my version of Mount Everest. And don’t even get me started on grocery shopping—it’s like running a marathon, but instead of a medal, I get a nap (if I’m lucky).

You’ve heard of FOMO, right? Fear of missing out? Well, chronic illness is more like NO-MO: **No Motivation to go anywhere**. I see all you people on Instagram, posting about your weekend hikes, brunches, and spontaneous road trips. Meanwhile, I’m over here debating whether or not I have the energy to fold laundry.

Honestly, the biggest adventure I’m having this week is trying to find a comfortable position to sit in that doesn’t make my joints scream at me like I’ve wronged them in a past life. Sometimes I’ll even scroll through Instagram just to pretend I’m there with you, but let’s be real, it’s going to take me three days to recover from imagining it.

Speaking of plans, let’s just address the elephant in the room: I’m that friend. You know, the one who RSVPs with every intention of showing up, but then my body’s like, “Nah, fam, we’re staying home tonight.” Look, I didn’t choose the flake life, the flake life chose me.

Every time I cancel plans, I swear I see disappointment in my friends’ eyes. But what can I say? I have to ration my energy like I’m living off a solar battery in the middle of winter. I don’t have the power to *do it all*. (Okay, fine, I barely have the power to do half of it.) But my Netflix queue? Oh, that’s thriving.

Okay, okay. It’s not all doom and gloom. If there’s one thing chronic illness has taught me, it’s how to prioritize the heck out of my life. Do I *need* to vacuum today, or will the dust bunnies be fine for another 24 hours? Should I run those errands, or can I send my husband out to retrieve the essentials (read: coffee and snacks) like the hero he is?

And hey, I’ve gotten pretty darn good at napping. Napping is basically my Olympic sport now. I can nap anywhere, anytime. Couch? Sure. Car? You bet. Standing up? *Challenge accepted.* 

All jokes aside, life with chronic illness isn’t exactly what I had on my vision board, but it’s mine. And while I might not be able to do *all* the things, I’ve learned to appreciate the things I *can* do. Like laughing at the absurdity of it all, connecting with others who understand this wild ride, and occasionally finding the energy to attend a social gathering (but only if there’s comfy seating).

So, if you ever find yourself in the chronic illness lottery, welcome to the club! We don’t have matching jackets (too much effort), but we do have a lot of understanding, some dark humor, and an endless supply of naps.

Let me know if you’d like to join me for a slow walk sometime… but no promises.