Chronic illness isn’t an aesthetic; at least it’s not the one that those big pages promote.
It isn’t green smoothies made in seemingly immaculate kitchens. It isn’t skin care routines. It isn’t matching, clean pyjamas. It isn’t daily doses of fresh air. It isn’t cosy days under clean bedsheets. It’s not scented candles and fairy lights. (It is sometimes fairy lights.) It isn’t devouring books or indulging in “me time”. It isn’t what’s sold to you as “self care”. It isn’t beautifully curated outfits and made-up faces, even on the days they’ll tell you are their down days.
It’s greasy hair and unwashed bodies. It’s dirty, days old pyjamas. It’s body odour. It’s unbrushed teeth and hair. It’s dirty crockery and mugs cluttering bedside tables. It’s microwave meals, or food you can eat easily that’s provided by kind souls (if you’re lucky). It’s isolation. It’s notifications building up, if you’re still fortunate enough to get them. It’s wet wipe washes. It’s neglect on multiple levels and from numerous sources. It’s hoping to get online just for some kind of socialisation. Its unfairness. It’s anger. It’s sadness. It’s being too sensitive to stimulation that you cannot be around your pets or your people. It’s crushed dreams and unfulfilled potentials. It’s silence. Its ugly. It’s darkness, and not just because of the lack of light. It’s riding it out and waiting for it to lessen. If it does. If you’re lucky.
It’s a surreal way to live, if you’ve got much life left at all.
It’s also patience. It’s adaptability. It’s a level of resilience you shouldn’t have to find, but somehow always do. It’s tentative hope. It’s grit. It’s camaraderie. It’s slithers of joy that most people miss. It’s different. It’s new dreams. It’s not always bad. It’s redefining a whole host of things. It’s gratitude. It’s being at your strongest whilst you’re at your weakest. It’s, sometimes, somehow, peace.
And although it doesn’t take away from how truly gruelling things are, it’s worth noting that my worst days are better than other people’s easiest days.
IMAGE: Anna perched on the edge of the bed for the purpose of this post 😆
'M.E. myself and I' by Anna 