Invisible illnesses are all I know and have reshaped every fiber of my being.
Many develop mental anguish after years of managing crippling chronic pain. I went reverse course, per the usual.
In 2016, I was in a battle for my life. That battle was my own internal battle. I nearly did not survive. My mind was ravaged by constant internal negative chatter. Ruminating in the same vicious cycle. Telling me what a failure I was. Worthless. Unlovable. I believed that inner voice for years.
The subtle signs had been running under the current for some time, but once depression truly took root, it would not relent. Depression ravaged my mind and distorted every single shred of reality. Of perception. Of clarity.
I became a shell of a human. The previously super social creature I was became a mute. I withdrew from people I loved. I stopped being able to work. I stopped knowing how to live.
The mind is so powerful and once illness invades, disease wants to be the victor.
I know the depths of finding yourself swimming under current, constantly attempting one second above water. The undercurrent is unpredictable. Especially when it seems that you have the heaviest weights strapped to your ankles, bringing you further from air.
One breath.
Come up for air.
Back underwater.
I know the depths of the deepest, darkest hole and clawed my way out. I was brought back down and tested many times.
The healing journey is not linear, but every new setback is a lesson to learn from. The journey always starts within ourselves. I taught myself how to rebuild.
The treatment options I explored and utilized, knew no bounds. When medications were not working, I researched and tried alternative treatment options, at the guidance of my doctor. When my doctor no longer served me, I found new doctors. No rock was left unturned in my fight to live.
And then slowly, years ago, I felt a glimmer of light. Of hope.
One slow, uncertain step at a time to rebuild.
A phoenix slowly rising from the ashes.
My mental health journey changed me, for the better. I found my voice and my purpose. I found my footing by honoring the pain. By accepting, and ultimately, embracing the beautiful parts of me that I discovered along the journey. I sat in all of the immense pain. I fought the hardest of fights. I did the work.
The invisible scars of my battles are etched in every fiber of who I am, but they are what make me who I am today.
Shortly after I started healing mentally; I experienced what would become another battle with invisible illness | chronic pain.
After navigating some of the most renowned hospital systems to help understand and treat my chronic pain — constantly shifting, pivoting and advocating for my care — I see how much those of us with invisible illnesses have to advocate to be taken seriously medically.
Illnesses that cannot be seen with the visible eye, require medical professionals to trust their patients. For women, symptoms that cannot be seen are entirely too often considered psychosomatic and in our heads.
The onslaught of my chronic pain was similar to my descent in 2016. Fast and furious. Unrelenting. Totally destructive.
I lifted my 30 pound nephew one day, who I had lifted often for the first 1.5 years of his life, and that was the beginning of my chronic pain journey. Pain arrived suddenly and became a constant companion for years.
Soon after that incident, after being dismissed and invalidated by a compassionate award winning orthopedic; the off center, bulging disc hit a nerve cavity that compromised my right leg. In my mid 30’s, I was told my spine looked like that of a 70 year olds.
In short time, the nerve damage spread to both hands and I developed carpal tunnel. It was around this time that I had left the workforce to focus on my writing. The irony, I could no longer even hold a pen.
I advocated for myself and appropriate care and was accepted as a patient at Mayo Clinic. This was a transformative experience in my extensive journey navigating western medicine. Mayo Clinic provided patient-centered care and I once again felt hope that healing was within reach.
After thoughtful conversation and review, one surgeon determined given the prolonged impact on my ability to function; a fusion surgery with titanium plates placed in my lower back would be the procedural solution.
Alternatively, another doctor at Mayo told me, “the strength of my mind could heal my back”.
He was right. After 8 physical therapy sessions and active learning and understanding of chronic pain; the pain began to lessen. Eventually, there would be more days pain free than in debilitating pain.
My ability to heal 2 years of debilitating chronic pain is a testament to the strength of cultivating a strong, resilient mind.
The work I did to heal myself through my mental anguish, the ability to finally sit and feel the mental turmoil, allowed me to climb out of my personal purgatory. The strength of your mind is humbling.
We all hold pain and uncertainty differently. We all find strength, resilience, fight our internal battle, differently.
And now, I have built a life that is beyond what I could have imagined.
The person I was in those years of torment, is never far, but she grounds me. She anchors me in her strength. Her resilience. Her battle scars.
She reminds me to be grateful.
To appreciate the small, simple moments.
To persevere.
It is difficult to get the care you need for illnesses that cannot be seen to the outward eye. People do not believe what they cannot see.
