Some days, I can run errands, do chores, and play with my children; on the outside, I appear to be fine. But I’m dying on the inside. Every movement is a struggle for me because I am exhausted. Every part of my body is in excruciating pain. 

I’m tired, dizzy, and I feel worthless.

I set a goal of completing two tasks per day, one chore and one meal for my family. I used to be someone else.

I have many interests; I am a chef and a carpenter, and I enjoy throwing parties. That person is gone, but it is difficult to say goodbye.

I enjoy working with wood and creating something beautiful out of nothing. I’ve made some lovely farm tables and works of art out of beautiful wood. I remodeled my home because I enjoy working with my hands and seeing my vision come to life. My hands are now constantly swollen and throbbing with sharp burning pain. They cramp and seize, and they refuse to cooperate.

I am a chef; it is both my hobby and my profession. Have you ever cooked something for someone that made their heart sing? That joy is visible on their faces as they eat. Whether it’s because they like the flavor, it reminds them of a special memory, or it’s something they’ve never tried before. I wish I could bring that joy to as many people as possible. 

Last year, I completely remolded a vintage camper to turn it into a food truck. 

I tried to ignore the subtle symptoms of a major flare.

I just kept going, not letting a little pain deter me. I combined my two loves and created a beautiful truck that makes me happy every time I cook in it. My business was a huge success when it first started. I had regular customers and was making a profit, so I ignored the symptoms. However, they refused to be ignored, so they spoke louder.

I had to take a couple of weeks off, which turned into months, and now I had to decide whether or not to close the business. That would never be done by the strong, capable me. My brain kept telling me, “No, we can do this!” My body, however, said no. The strong, capable me is not present at this time.

When I go out and interact with people, I smile and laugh to distract myself from the pain. I’m crying on the inside. I’m crying because every minor task hurts and saps all of my energy. I’m crying because the old me could handle these simple tasks with ease. I’m crying because the old me has vanished. I’m sad and in mourning, because a piece of myself has died. I need to say goodbye to her, but I’m not sure I’m ready. It took a long time to develop that strong, capable woman. I know it will be difficult to say goodbye because she is all I have known, I have built her up so many times and I adore her. But I cannot move forward until I let her go. It is time to discover the new me. 

An excerpt from my journal.

I struggle to say goodbye to my old normal.

A normal in which I could walk with ease.

A normal where my body did what I expected.

A normal when every day was not filled with pain.

I struggle daily with simple tasks.

Like doing the dishes, cooking dinner, or playing with my girls. 

My pain is invisible, it can not be seen. 

There is no injury on the outside for the world to see. 

They cannot see that inside every part of me is pulsating with pain.

That behind my smile, I am falling apart. 

All they can see is a woman who should easily be able to do things.

A woman who should be working towards her dreams.

Not a woman who struggles to make it through the day.

How do I say goodbye to the woman who could do everything?

To the woman who was strong and capable.

To the woman who was fiercely independent.

To the woman who was filled with big dreams and desires.

How do I embrace the woman who struggles in every moment?

The woman who has to ask for help at every turn.

The woman who is filled in every moment with pain.

That woman is not who I am,

She makes me feel weak and lost.

I  have lost a piece of myself.

I am not the same person.

I have to let her go.

I have to say goodbye.

So that is can move forward and embrace the new me,

Goodbye…

Stay Strong

Michaela