A Different Kind of Hard

My life looks different than that of most women my age, and not just because I moved to another country. This is my home for now.

I might be able to blend in with everyone else here, but my body just can't keep up. Living with a chronic illness affects so many aspects of my life.

I feel like the best description of being chronically ill ranges from being on a sinking ship but all you can do is watch because you're tied to the mast as the ship goes down, to having all the best appliances money can buy but no electricity to power them.

I'm not working grueling 60-hour weeks like some of my friends, instead I'm saving all my energy to pick up my kid from school. But it's still hard. But a different kind of hard. I'm not going to night school or bringing in a paycheck anymore. I'm counting it a success cooking a good meal. There's part of me who longs and mourns for the things of the past that I can no longer achieve. A desire to fit in more with my working and athletic peers, but that's not my life right now. I am moving on from that and being grateful for the things I can do today, for in the future, they may no longer be mine. I am going to enjoy what my body can do today.

But oh how I wish I didn't have to explain why I can't do the things everyone else can. I might appear fine... but looks can be deceiving. Some days, I spend a lot of time fussing at my hands because they won't do what I want them to. But... they look like any other hands.

So maybe next time someone can't keep up, please remember to be kind. They might just be battling wars you cannot see. Or if it's you, have a little grace for yourself. Mourn the past you, move on, and enjoy the you today.