I was in a dark place literally; emotionally and physically. I still am sometimes.
Chronic means never going away, it means always, it means "sorry honey, there is nothing you can do about this for the rest of your life."
I am not my favorite subject to write about. My illness is not my favorite topic. But it's easy for me, all the things I dare not talk about easily flow from my pen.
I'm having a hard time writing today. I keep forgetting that this is a journal, not a final draft.
In some ways, I try to find the beauty in my defective colon and my body that hates itself.
And my in some ways, I mean that just now, I am trying very hard to find the beauty.
The beauty and uniqueness, not the tragedy or romanticization of it all. I'm looking for the practicality in it, the okayness in the words "forever" and "sick." I think the beauty and saving grace don't lie in the illness itself, but in remission. Remission and hope and normalcy, all foreign words any chronic disease sufferer longs for.
And I hate that this comfortably ends in a preposition.