Toss out the Pain, Ring in the Freedom
A different approach to a New Year’s Resolution for people with chronic illness
As a person with a chronic illness, major commitments can be too much to handle. At times, mere survival takes president over resolutions. Because somedays, getting out of bed to feed myself is an accomplishment.
Realistically, there is way too much pressure on New Year’s Eve. As the hand moves toward twelve, you’re supposed to make a decision and give up your old ways forever. By the strike of midnight, you’re a new you. Who are we kidding?
Consider a different approach this year. Especially if you have to deal with an unpredictable disorder that rips through your life upheaving everything in its wake.
Fifteen years ago, the people around me thought I was dying. Normally, an invisible illness is unseen, but there is a point were it can rear its head and become very noticeable. I suffer from chronic migraines. After a twenty-eight day stretch in November of 2004, I attempted to get medical help. Unfortunately, the doctor I landed at the time overmedicated me.
I lost eighteen pounds in a matter of weeks and was unable to do much more than sit on the couch. I’m a small person. Weighing one-hundred-four pounds was not okay. My closest friend later told me I looked like death. After an ER doctor refused my care due to the mixed medication I was prescribed, I knew something had to change. As a mother of two, this wasn’t the life I wanted for myself or my family.
My illness had hit the lowest point it ever would. I promised myself I’d never let it get that bad again. And I’m here to tell you it hasn’t. I’m not cured. I have a disease. What I learned is how to have a better life with an invisible illness.
There was no instantaneous magical roll-over. The choice I made would take time and dedication. But much like a New Year’s Resolution there was a decision and an execution. If I wanted to change, it was going to happen because my heart was really in it. Not because I flipped the calendar. I had to want that resolution more than anything else on earth.
The first step was asking myself what I wanted. To feel better. To not feel sick. To function like a normal person. What might have seemed like an obvious answer was not. I had to dig deeper.
I mulled it over and wrote it out. Then I wrote more ideas. Actively, I put it somewhere visible. I let it sink into my brain. Scratch, erase, contemplate, rewrite, transform. My plan of action was to make a decision by the end of the month. I had thirty-one days to wholeheartedly ponder what I wanted and how I was going to get there. What could I go without? What could I add? Where did my priorities lie? What was reasonable for me to manage? What was the best sound plan to get where I wanted to be?
The next month was to move forward. Implement what I decided. Was it working? Did I need to make adjustments? I dipped my toe in the water. What I discovered was that walking was number one on my healing journey. I wanted to walk. This may seem trivial, but to me it was big. When I realized it, I was in 100%.
From experience I knew, trying to tackle a 5K on the first day only leads to a pulled muscle. For a person with chronic pain, the bar had to be set extremely low. Cooking a healthy meal once a week is a great start. Three days a week forms a pattern. Five days and you have a habit. How did I get into the habit of walking daily?
At that time in history, mall-walking was a big thing. I lived close to an indoor shopping mall. Day after day, I started walking the mall. The thing was, I couldn’t walk far. Getting in the door the first week was a real feat, and I knew walking an entire lap was out of the question. The point was to start and build slowly. If I’m ever brave enough to get a tattoo, it will say “yi bu.”
“yī bù yī gè jiǎo yìn” Chinese idiom “one step, one footprint, steady progress reliable”
My face became familiar to the other mall-walkers, whom consisted mostly of senior citizens racing past me. The little old ladies in track-suits and gray-haired men, could out walk me tenfold. In my early thirties with my ponytail and youthful stature, at quick glance, I could easily be taken for a vibrantly healthy young lady. So I thought. On the contrary, after months of working up to my first lap around the mall, a regular stopped me. He asked if I had cancer. His question blew me away. I was a bit embarrassed, but he wasn’t judging me. He just wanted to help. Before long, John and I became friends.
There’s no better support than someone’s welcoming smile encouraging you to keep going. People need people. I didn’t have to go at it alone. My resolution started out very personal and private. Then somehow the journey became a bit easier shared with a trusted friend.
Ultimately, real life changes take months and months of work. Week by week, I added to the distance. Walking one retail store further than before was a pat on the back. One lap led to two. Three laps was a mile. Slow and steady. It wasn’t a straight road to victory. The migraines continued. Some days, I didn’t make it to the mall at all. If you deal with a painful disorder, you will have setbacks.
Optimist: Someone who figures that taking a step backward after a step forward is not a disaster, it’s a cha-cha. -Robert Brault
So I cha-cha-ed. One step forward, three steps back. Three steps forward, two steps back. Two steps forward, one step back. It was an uneven dance. I kept going.
When I have a flare up, I can’t always do what I want. It is what it is. The last thing I need is to beat myself up. That type of mentality is where all my hard work easily goes kaput into never-never-land. I find my strength in looking back. I know you’re strong. You are a surviver of a chronic illness.
There was no harm in one-lap on a bad day. I’ve been seen by neighbors walking laps in my yard. Little do they know, I’m in far too much pain to get to the mall. I take each challenging road block as a lesson. A good friend once asked me to write down everything I accomplished in the last year. When I read back my list, I wasn’t impressed. I’m an overachiever so naturally I wanted it to be more. Then, she reminded me that I did all those things with a debilitating disease. Wow! I’d never thought about it that way before. Each thing I did took so much more energy than the average person. And yet I still did it. I had to give myself credit where credit was due.
I have a neurological disorder. In any given moment, what my body decides to do can be out of my control. That is an emotionally imprisoning feeling. My resolution that year was to find something that gave me a sense of stability. Becoming a person that walks two to three miles a day gave me confidence, physical stamina and inner peace. I am a migraineur. Walking is my freedom.
“Great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together; and great things are not something accidental, but must certainly be willed.” -Vincent Van Gogh
