same old new year

For me, living with chronic illness and disability is a constant attempt to simultaneously hold hope and acceptance—and every now and then, a date on the calendar comes along, punches me square in the gut, and I drop both.

I spent way too long on this little diagram. Art is hard when your hands are shaky and you can’t support your own body weight. I thought about cleaning it up in photoshop, but then I decided I would rather just…not.

I think every chronically ill person has their own thorny little anniversaries. Maybe the day of the injury or illness that started it all. Maybe their birthday. Maybe a specific change of seasons. Whatever it is, it dials up the reminder that we aren’t who we used to be, life isn’t how we thought it would be, and maybe that’s never going to change. This year, for me, that date was New Year’s Day.

The first half of 2024 was pretty good for me. I was part of multiple art shows and completed a huge illustration project. I made progress on my second novel. I traveled to Death Valley. But the second half of the year? Hyperbole doesn’t do it justice. I spent most of June and July in bed, in constant pain. I lost a ton of strength and mobility (that I still haven’t gained back). I dropped out of my writing workshop. I stopped making art. I missed a family vacation. I couldn’t take care of my kids. Each dip in my health, each loss of what had given my life meaning, felt like a boa constrictor wrapping around my chest. I improved enough to stagger into fall, but the fading of the light clutched even tighter. And when, after the holidays, social media erupted with hopes and dreams and plans for 2025, despair squeezed out the last of my breath.

more about this little journal forthcoming…

I cried a lot that first week. I didn’t think I could do another year. I definitely didn’t want to, if it was going to be more of the same. (It didn’t help that I had covid, and felt even worse than I normally do). I isolated in my bedroom, binged Netflix, took my everyday meds and my ohshitthisisbad meds, and resolved to do what I said I was doing last year, but didn’t actually do: put my health first.

MRI time. I had trouble getting up afterward because my lower body had gone numb. I told the tech it was because I have really low blood pressure. He said “that’s because you’re athletic.” LOL.

This is not a sexy resolution. It’s also not an easy one. There are so many things I want to do: art shows, workshops, writing, travel. But right now, I can’t. This is where I’m at. I have to metaphorically bend over and pick up acceptance.

I’m not quite ready for hope yet. Maybe it’s best if I leave it be for now. I guess that means, for the first time in a long time, I have one hand free.