Author: Krystal

It’s hard to push on when I don’t feel well. It’s hard to make myself do things that I need to do but don’t feel up to doing. I suppose this is a common struggle for those who have chronic illnesses. Some of my friends who deal with chronic illnesses have told me that they just push through the hard days. How do they do it? The way my HM works, if I push too hard I’ll crash even harder. It’s hard to find the balance.

I saw my doctor again this week. He was very pleased with how well I’m doing. I am, too. I haven’t had a truly bad day in a very long time. And I am very, very grateful. But I have this fear lurking behind my gratefulness.

I am so tired of dealing with my migraines. I hate the pain and the nausea and the dizziness and the fatigue and everything else that comes with an attack. I especially hate the unpredictability of them.

When the foundation of our faith is not Christ and His forgiveness of our sins, our faith will not support us.

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking my life is being wasted. I’m 30, yet I have no husband, no children, and—until a very short time ago—no job. Some days, I can't even get out of bed and do anything. I feel as if I’m just existing, waiting for my life to be over, with little to show for it. It seems like such a waste.

Today in my time in God's Word, I was searching for hope. I went to the right place. I began studying 1 Peter.

Yesterday, I had a dark spell. Those of you who also deal with chronic illness know what I’m talking about. For those of you who don’t, it’s a time when my mind becomes a scary place. Every depressing thought I can think comes out. I know they’re not true. I know they’re lies. I know the truth to combat them. It doesn’t stop the battle from coming.

When Anna Jarvis first envisioned the celebration of Mother’s Day, she intended for it to be a day that families set aside to spend time with their mothers showing their appreciation for the sacrifices they have made. No mom has sacrificed more for her children than my mom has for me.

I’ve noticed something about myself recently: I am proud of my chronic illness. I don’t mean “proud of” as a parent is proud of a child. I mean I take pride in being disabled, and I don’t mean that in a good way.