Illness can feel like an ending. It can feel like the sentence has finished and the storybook you had imagined will never be written. It can seem like an end to who you wanted to be, who you hoped one day to become. It can be an end to spontaneity; unable to live by spur of the moment, everything is regimented and coordinated. It’s usually an end to any risky behavior. Even eating too much or venturing out in the cold may be a bad idea for you. Comfort and consistency take the reigns. It is the end to chaos. It is the end of all-nighters and bad decisions. But it’s also the end of road trips and hole-in-the-wall snacks. The end of knowing whether you’ll be able to show up and be who you intend to be. Likely the end of certain relationships – not everyone can hack this life – the end of being taken seriously, and the end of hope. This will be the worst of it and you’ll know when you arrive.


I’ve been there and I see you. 


And my hope is that you continue. 


May the gift of your life be to realize that the end of the story you’d imagined means only that you need to write a new book. May you continue to dream with such fervor that a new path stretches out before you that you can walk with your illness, hand in hand. May you recognize that the people strong enough to stick by you are the ones who deserve to walk with you. The jobs and habits and decisions you’ve left behind were not made for you, not this time. You are in this life because you were made for it.


Take the very nature of your breath as a sign that you were made to continue. 


Realize that the healing you are searching everywhere for,

exists within.


That you have an illness, but it doesn’t have you. 


You have an illness, but it doesn't have you Click To Tweet

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