Without going into extensive detail, the past few years of my life have taught me a humbling array of lessons, many of which have left me with a few key takeaways. First, good health is not a guarantee. Second, if you do not rest when your body tells you to, it will forcefully demand rest… and the timing will seldom be convenient. Third, chronic illness sucks, and it is life altering– but there is community in it, too.Â
I’m not going to tell you I would have chosen to be chronically ill. It is the hand I have been dealt, and I will accept and adapt to it to the best of my ability– but if I could, I would change it. I do not say this in a manner of either self pity or pessimism. I have adapted and learned many things about myself and about my life through this journey, but I do not wish to be told to look on the bright side or to stay positive about it by those who are not living in my body. Change is not inherently a positive thing, and I am allowed to feel negatively about it and grieve the parts of my life it has taken away from me. That being said, I am certainly not going to sit around and wallow in self pity, or pretend my life is over– so I still make goals, and I still strive for dreams and pursuits.Â
I have always been quite the overachiever. From aiming for stellar grades, taking as many honors and AP classes as I could cram into my schedule, and doing so many activities that I question how I managed to get even a wink of sleep, I consistently aimed higher, higher, higher for much of my life, never satisfied with any merit or success I achieved. It took me far in life– my college application was impressive, and I have achieved many things and overcome adversities I am genuinely very proud of. I will not pretend it does not take resilience to finish a semester with no grade lower than a B+ after being hospitalized with a severe infection and sepsis three weeks before finals… and I have done that. It’s not much of a surprise that I have always been one for New Year’s Resolutions– usually incredibly unrealistic, unachievable goals with ridiculous standards of perfection. I do not recommend that strategy for anyone. It is unhelpful, and in my experience, does little besides make you feel bad about yourself.Â
This has been the first year I have finally accepted that I am not going to turn my entire life around and do absolutely everything I have not already done simply because the date now says 2025 instead of 2024. I was never going to do that– not when I was much healthier, and not now. Oddly, though, I do not feel the sense of defeat I expected in accepting this. This is not to say I never get pangs of it, but on the whole it has felt overwhelmingly relieving, and I have actually made significantly more progress on my goals than I would have if I had made them incredibly unrealistic. Instead of striving for straight As, to never miss a day of class, never leave schoolwork until the last minute… I have decided to focus on resting when my body tells me to rest, staying hydrated and eating healthy food when I can (but any food over no food), keeping track of my symptoms and pain, pacing myself appropriately, and advocating for myself when I inevitably do have to turn something in late every so often or miss a class.Â
As it turns out, prioritizing myself and caring for my body instead of pushing through pain and symptoms ultimately means I miss less class, turn fewer assignments in late, and overall feel a little bit less terrible most of the time. Maybe this should be obvious, but in our hustle culture and with my overachieving tendencies, it was not. In an ideal world, would I be there and on time for every class and event, never have to cancel plans, and be able to do everything and more I would like to do? Absolutely. But this is not an ideal world, and pretending that it is has historically proven to be a great way to end up physically and mentally burnt out. No, I would not like to have an email template drafted and ready to go for when I wake up with a migraine and need to tell a professor that I either cannot come to class or will be late, but I’m going to like it a whole lot better when I can send that coherent message I prepared beforehand instead of hazily typing a memo with half the words so embarrassingly misspelled that I may as well have let my cat walk across the keyboard and hit “send”. I would really love it if my chronic illness went away tomorrow. It is not going to, but I will not pretend I’d be the least bit upset if it did. Even if that happened, though, I think I would still like to remember the lessons it has taught me about pacing and about valuing your needs before your abilities and responsibilities. Maybe I would not need to rest as much as I do now, or have pre-written emails at the ready for inopportune and unavoidable situations, or have multiple close friends equipped with my emergency contacts in case I end up embarking on an undesirable journey to the hospital– but I would still be better off taking note of my needs, and not just what the overachieving gremlins in my brain tell me I need. Chronically ill or not, everyone needs rest, food, water, and downtime (even if they protest at the time, the overachieving gremlins will thank you in the long run). Goals are great– shoot for the moon!– but if you end up needing to re-route your course for Mars or Venus, or make a pit stop somewhere in the atmosphere, let it be– you have not lost by landing among the stars.