chronic illness

Like a lot of people with chronic illness or autoimmune/autoinflammatory disorders, I went through a dead-end labyrinth to get my diagnosis.

The grief, pain, and misery of an illness lying in wait unsettles me — and yet, I must fight to sustain a life caught between existence and incessant stillness.

When I think sexy, the first thing that comes to mind is acting with abandon and being lost in the trance of feeling and response. My body might want that rapture, but it has to crawl through its own junkyard to get there.

When I think sexy, the first thing that comes to mind is acting with abandon and being lost in the trance of feeling and response. My body might want that rapture, but it has to crawl through its own junkyard to get there.

Chronic illness and injury has taught me — is still teaching me — patience. These days are not a consolation prize for what I didn’t win, for where I didn’t or couldn’t succeed, for a better life I might have had if only…They are my life.

I learned the power of being on my own team, of understanding my mind and body as unified, and the peace of seeing meaning-making and wisdom-sharing as my ultimate place in the world. This struggle has been my greatest gift, and it is only expands with my ability to share what I've learned about self-love from having a chronic illness with our beloved readers (as well as including several self-portraits I began taking during my infusions of medication).

Although my underlying disease has no treatment, many of the symptoms of my disease can be treated, and even a small reduction in my symptoms can be life-changing for me. Yet, unless I really push my doctors for a treatment plan, they rarely offer any suggestions. I understand that there is no pill to cure me, and I don't feel bad when my doctor doesn't have one to offer.

I lost 100 pounds, and I kept most of it off. But I am not healthy, and I never will be.