This article is by Nathalie Garcia from the United States.
Photo by Spencer Selover from Pexels.
It feels so strange to think just a couple of years ago, I was just a confused kid who didn’t understand their diagnosis or where it would have led me. I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on how far I’ve come in terms of healing.
I feel like something that isn’t talked about a lot is how differently we all heal. I wish I could say I navigated my chronic illness with patience and grace but it just wouldn’t be true.
Some of us heal in multiple stages, take a step backward, maybe skip a few steps forward or go in circles for some time. Somehow, I feel as though there is an expectation for those of us who are disabled to be a vision of a warrior that people without disabilities have created.
Even hearing the word healing, I picture softness, warmth, and calm. As soon as I reflect on it, I see something completely different; I see isolation, cold concrete and stiffness. To have an invisible disability is an entirely different kind of isolation I have ever felt in my life. It’s like people can see me but their eyes just pass through me.
Healing a struggle people can’t see can make you bitter. Angry. Angry at the world. Angry at yourself. Sometimes healing turns into a never ending cycle of anger and guilt for feeling so much hatred for a world who can’t possibly understand you when they cannot even see you.
At one point, healing turned into a lot of reflection and self-forgiveness. It’s strange because somehow having a warmer perspective on what disability was like for me shocked others. How can you be happy after that? I couldn’t live like that. I still don’t know how to feel about some of these words. The more I think about them, the more I realize just how hurtful they are.
Because somehow, no matter what perspective I had of my disability, I could never satisfy anyone. And that was okay.
Recognizing that maybe others were just healing differently or at different stages of healing was so incredibly comforting. It made me realize I was angry once too and that I can’t possibly know if I’m seeing right through others like they saw through me.
Healing…
Because somehow, no matter what perspective I had of my disability, I could never satisfy anyone. And that was okay.
This article is sponsored by Lyfebulb.
Lyfebulb is a patient empowerment platform, which centers around improving the lives of those impacted by chronic disease.