This is not a victory post. It’s a testimony in progress. In fact, when I first sat down to write it, I lost my composure and cried. It’s still raw. But I’m finally on a new path. So, from the slumped position I was in, sobbing over my keyboard, I straightened and began hitting the keys. I have no idea who needs to read this, but I need to say it.
Living with chronic illness means living with uncertainty. I mean, there’s some certainty in knowing that tomorrow will be hard no matter what I do to preserve it today. But I never know exactly how limited I’m going to be or how bad I’m going to feel. I don’t know if my baseline will drop next month, or if, by some miracle, I might get a reprieve and feel a bit better.
That’s not it, though. Chronic illness also means losing the person I once was. It has not only slowly stolen my hopes and dreams, but it’s suckled the life out of the vibrant person I used to be, and that is a loss unlike any other I’ve ever experienced, second only to losing my faith. But those two things are intertwined, since my faith was at the very center of who I was, and it defined nearly everything about me.
But we are never without hope. Even with a broken spirit, even with a shattered will. There is a path forward if we’re willing to find it. We can rebuild faith while the ground beneath us is shifting.
Bleak Beginnings
I was sick long before I was willing to recognize it. I remember driving back from real estate showings years ago, getting terrible migraines so bad I could hardly focus on driving. Then came the inability process what was happening on the tv screen while playing video games with my husband. And the realization that my eyes were not keeping up with the movements of my head. Debilitating fatigue began to set in, and still, I ignored all these symptoms.
I’d just had surgery on my sinuses when all this began. I had just gone a few years with almost no sleep between two babies and nasal polyps that had fully obstructed my breathing until I had them removed. I developed POTs symptoms along with the fatigue, and my body began to simply give out. In the middle of family activities, I would suddenly be unable to keep going. I’d go for a hike and have to lay down afterwards, until the migraine and immense fatigue subsided. I’d start an activity I had well been able to do a couple of years prior, and regret it when I almost passed out. Still, I trucked on. Because mothers don’t have time for that mess.
The Breaking Point
And then dizzy episodes began. They lasted for a few weeks and subsided to a degree that was manageable. But then one day in 2023, I woke up dizzy. And I have been dizzy since, albeit in varying degrees. Plus tired and hurting. And apparently highly reactive to so many environmental factors that my immune system and nervous system have not had a break. Life was no longer about thriving; it was about surviving.
I prayed through all of it. I begged, I cried, I called out from my position on the floor, on my face, on my knees, begging for anything. Answers, healing, ANYTHING. And I continued to get worse. So, I dusted myself off, stood up, and kept trying to figure things out on my own. Feeling alone, tired, depressed, ashamed. Ashamed of the encroaching disability robbing me of my identity, robbing my family of the wife and mother they deserved.
After years of silence and continued worsening of symptoms, my faith is shattered. My identity? Crumbling. Despite hanging on for dear life to them both.
Ruins are Not the End
The desire to keep a tight grip on hopes and dreams found me trying again recently to insert the old me back into my present circumstances. I had an amazing opportunity to have the dog of my dreams – a breed I was never allergic to before these health issues began, despite being allergic to other breeds. I lost my heart dog four years ago, and I’m convinced the grief from losing her has been a part of the perfect storm that knocked down my health. Even with increasing allergies to just about everything under the sun, I couldn’t give up, not yet. So, when this opportunity presented itself, I had hope.
When it didn’t work out, I caved. As I watched this dog being carried out of my door the day my husband took him back, something inside of my snapped. I spent the next few weeks grieving like I would have had I lost a beloved pet. But I had lost more than that. I’d lost hope.
A sad story, to be sure. But it has also given me the push I needed to accept that who I once was is gone, and she’s not coming back. It was time to move on.
I couldn’t go back to what I was doing before that experience; it didn’t feel right. An indelible line was drawn, and crossing back over meant staying in that dark place filled with hopes and dreams that were not serving me – they were keeping me stuck. I simply had to move on. But how? And what do I do now?
Radical Acceptance: Letting Go to Move Forward
I start with radical acceptance. Acceptance is such a hard word for me. I’m a fighter by nature. I’ve been called a few things in my life, but most commonly I’ve been called stubborn, persistent, even formidable. I don’t know how to give up, even when it’s obviously in my best interest to do so.
Radical acceptance is accepting reality for what it is. No judgement, no resistance. No wishing it was different. It sounds a lot like giving up to me. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe when we stop fighting against the reality of our circumstances, we can begin to live within them.
The day we took that dog back, I didn’t just lose an opportunity; I lost the will to keep fighting. I was smacked right in the center of my heart with the reality that I cannot do the things I have always done, and I may never be able to again. To keep from drowning in grief, I had better figure out a path forward.
Faith Over Fear: A New Way to Trust
It’s interesting how thin the line is between hope and fear. Thin enough that they can be mistaken for one another. I used to think I had hope because I had things in life I had to accomplish, therefore I simply could not be sick enough not to do them. I had hope because there was no way God was going to leave me like this, especially after giving me a family to care for. Really, I was afraid those things were true. I began obsessing over my healing and I spent years and tens of thousands of dollars on protocol after protocol. I changed direction every six months when treatments inevitably failed. And I dug my heels in. Something had to make a difference.
I’m not giving up on myself. Acceptance doesn’t mean gaslighting myself into subjection. It means taking the energy I was putting into fighting against my reality and channeling it toward living my best life in whatever circumstances I am in. It means using what resources I do have in a more profitable way.
This new way of doing things will take commitment. The disgruntled fighter in me will not go down without a fight. I will undoubtedly want to go back to doing everything possible to get better and being angry when it doesn’t work…again. I will have to be committed to staying on a path forward, even when it gets hard.
How will I do that? I’m still working on it, but these are some tips I plan to implement.
How to Practice Radical Acceptance and Build Faith Again
I will let myself grieve without guilt
No more feeling guilty for taking time to grieve what I’ve lost. Death of self is a hard pill to swallow, and I am entitled to having strong emotions and taking the time to let them have their say.
I will speak kindly to my present self
No more talking about how useless I am. Unfortunately, this one was been a real problem for me. But my nervous system is listening, and that negative self-talk is only hurting me.
I will redefine healing
I have been saying if I can hike a mountain with my dog, drink a beer at the top, and come back down for a normal dinner, I’ll consider myself healed. But I don’t know if those things will ever be possible. Healing will look like living a wonderful life despite my current circumstances.
I will embrace the glimmers
Instead of focusing on everything I can’t do, I will be intentionally grateful for what I can do. I can enjoy my loved ones, eat good food, and surround myself with things I love.
I will create new purpose
Purpose is a keyword for me. I’m VERY purpose driven, and I need something big to accomplish. Without it, I get depressed. My purpose is something I’ve lost in this, and rather than mourn that forever, I’ll create a new one.
I will seek God in the silence
And silent He has been. This has been one of the darkest times in my life. No, it has been the darkest time of my life so far. The closest I’ve come to losing faith. But I won’t stop. He’s done too much for me, for humanity. If all else fails, He is still there. And I have to trust He is working all of this out for my good.
Conclusion: A Spirited Approach to the Unknown
I am deciding today that I don’t need answers to have faith. Hebrews tells us that faith is the evidence of things not seen. Uncertainty isn’t the end of my story; it’s the beginning of a new one. You, too, can embrace a new life, even in the face of uncertainty. The Bible promises darker times and uncertainty for all of us, and if you follow the news, it’s evident dark times are upon us. Whether it’s illness, financial instability, or persecution, don’t lose faith. Let’s keep going together.
