Life's Curveballs Suck

I can’t lie, I envision poking people in the eye when they say “new year, new you.” I understand the concept, but I hate cliches. I used to love this concept, until it became an overbearing leech on my mind’s stability. For a couple of years, the start of each new year has felt pointless, hopeless, and fruitless. You’re probably willing me to add more details because there’s clearly context here. You’re right. I apologize. Let me start from the beginning.

I’m sick. Not the “grab some Sprite and tissues” kind of sick. The type of sickness that changes your entire life forever. The kind where you’re scared to leave your house because something can go wrong in an instant and you don’t want to be caught out in public if it does. The kind that causes your entire immune system to vanish for months at a time, after one cold. Ok, if I were to get real with you, it’s the kind of sickness where diarrhea will hit with no warning signs and you’re hauling buns, lookin’ like a wounded crab, towards the nearest toilet. At this moment, you legitimately don’t care what everyone thinks because you would rather look a little silly than have people remember you as the girl who pooped herself. It’s the kind of sickness that makes you way too comfortable with discussing poop and makes you understand why your grandmother has done it all these years.

I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. I kept ignoring some basic issues with my body thinking it was normal, until one day, it really wasn’t normal. To sum up the entire experience so far, I had to quit my job of eight years, get a work-from-home job, completely abandon huge goals and dreams I had been working on my entire life, and focus on just my health. To put it lightly, it hasn’t been going well.

At first, I hid it from everyone. I tried to pretend like life was normal still and nothing had changed, but pretty much every dad gum thing had changed. I felt lame, whiny, and embarrassed. When people ask what I have, I stumble around it because as soon as you say it, everyone knows what it means. Poop....yep, lots of poop. Of course, a ton of other severe issues come along with it, but that’s what people see it as. Embarrassing.

Up until recently, I was scared to tell people that it was my sickness holding me back. I didn’t want to further adjust my life based all around my sickness. I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist and maybe, just maybe, that meant it couldn’t hurt me; maybe I wouldn’t be defined by it. This year, the “new year, new you” concept finally resonated with me. I had let my sickness reduce me to a shell of fear and depression because I felt that if life couldn’t continue as it had, it couldn’t really continue at all.

My mind was changed drastically on this matter when a pastor friend of mine posted about reaching another goal and fulfilling yet another dream of his. He was diagnosed last year with an aggressive form of cancer. He’s very sick quite often and almost always has to be in the hospital for long periods of time. That sure as heck hasn’t stopped him. He’ll go straight from the hospital to coffee with a friend. I sat there wishing that was me. Then I mentally pimp slapped myself because for the first time in years, I realized that could be me.

To reach this state of mind is going to be a long journey. However, this year, my focus is to accept and thrive in that acceptance. Life hit me with something I can’t change, and there’s not one thing in existence that can fix that, no matter how hard I try to pretend it doesn’t exist. So, instead of trying to hide it and live in fear of it defining me, I’m going to look it dead in the eyes, greet it with a splash of southern charm, and ask it if it would like some lemonade. Acceptance and admittance is the first step to healing, at least that’s what they say.

This year is my year to accept, heal, and reestablish who I am. Every good story needs a twist in the plot. I’ve come face to face with that twist and now we’re tangoing to the finish line, and I’m going to win.