I am more than my illness

Unfortunately, with my chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia consuming the majority of my life, it can be hard to separate myself from my illness. With many invisible illnesses, despite the fact that we look ‘okay’, they tend to impact all aspects of life. Daily tasks and activities become challenging – discomfort and exhaustion become never ending.

Personally, I have found it difficult to remember that I am more than my illness. That I am not my illness. Sure, it might sound silly to most, but I can guarantee that there are many others out there who resonate with me regarding this struggle.

Often, it feels like I have lost myself. Not just physically, but also emotionally and mentally. Physically, I am not able to do the same things that I used to. As much as I resent that fact, I understand it. I have learnt to do things at my own pace, my new pace.

When it comes to the emotional and mental portions, I still find myself significantly impacted when it comes to my identity. It feels like I have lost who I am. What do I like? What do I want from life? Who am I? Typically, when these questions arise and their burden feels like a heavy weight on my shoulders, I ignore them. However, it is always in the back of my mind, lingering and festering like a disease.

As hard as I try to separate myself and my illnesses, they somehow seem to merge and intensify like a chemical reaction. Yeah, I am sick, it sucks but it is what it is. But why do I latch onto that fact? Why do I automatically confuse myself with my health? Is it because others tend to do the same? Is it because others have abandoned me due to my health issues? Is it because I don’t feel like I am enough?

Just because others have decided I wasn’t worth their energy doesn’t mean that I am nothing. I tend to try and change things about myself, experimenting with how I look, my personality, new hobbies – anything to figure out who it is that is staring back at me in the mirror. I have dyed my hair brown. Changed my style. Tweaked my personality. Started reading again. While I do feel like I am slowly getting to know myself once more, I still find myself falling back into the pattern of associating myself with my illness.

I am the girl who is sick. The girl who can’t go out. The girl who sleeps too much. Without even trying, I end up being interconnected with my illness, the part of me that I do not consider my own. Yeah, it is true, I am sick. It is a part of me. But it isn’t who I am. At least, not entirely.

While I want people to be compassionate and understand where I am coming from regarding my chronic illnesses, I don’t want to be treated differently because of them. Of course, I want to be myself and that does include the boundaries that I have put in place to assist with managing my health issues. But that shouldn’t mean that I am unlovable because of those very issues. Why can’t you love me for me instead of the parts of me that aren’t clouded by illness? Why can’t you see me as anything else other than a problem?

I am sick. We get it. It is annoying, believe me, I know. But there is more to me than that.

My favorite colour is blue. Not bright blue, not even the beautiful blue of the ocean. I love the colour blue that almost looks as if it is grey. Perhaps my favourite colour is in fact grey, with a hint of blue. I love to be outside, the smell of rain and feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin. When I am able, I love to swim. I love the feeling of the ocean covering me like a blanket, the feeling of floating on my back with my eyes closed as I drift over the waves peacefully. I love to go camping, to sit by a fire with friends and family as we play board games and tell stories. I love a lazy weekend where I lounge on the couch all day, taking the occasional nap between episodes of my latest favourite tv show. I love pestering my little brother and sending him stupid texts and funny videos. I love driving to new places and listening to loud music with my boyfriend, a taste of freedom as we get onto the highway with no particular destination in mind. Just us, the road, and the speakers.

I am more than my illness. I am more than chronically sick. I am still trying to figure out who I am. But I am more than just a burden.