Forever Fragile

The problem with having a chronic illness is that it somehow, strangely, begins to define who you are.   At least, that’s what I’ve found to be true with depression.  When I was in the throes of it, I truly felt fragile; like I could break apart at any moment, for no reason at all.  I was made of glass and might shatter at a touch, a word, a look.  Nothing could predict when it might happen.  I remember sitting at the ironing board one afternoon, no energy to stand, trying to do something productive, when a wave of sadness crushed me instantly.  I broke.  My head fell into my hands and I wept.  Why, I do not know.  I was fragile.  And I was angry because of it.  Where did this fragility come from?  Why did I have to suffer with it?  How would I regain control?  Could I regain control?

It's several years later and I have regained control, but I still have the label.  And I will always be managing the depression.  But I also have to manage the image that comes with it.  With a chronic illness there is always an image.  And we are all guilty of staring at that image at one time or another. 

Think about those with cancer.  We stare, quietly, wondering what it’s like to be them.  “How do they manage?  What are they feeling?  Does the chemo hurt?  How sick do they get?” 

What about those with diabetes?  “How can they stand to give themselves shots every day?  Should they be eating that dessert?  What if they go into shock?” 

And what about those with heart disease, fibromyalgia, arthritis,  epilepsy, bi-polar, or depression?  We quietly worry about that person having…an “episode” – whatever that might be.  We worry and want him or her to remain safe and healthy. We want to offer as much protection as we can. Funny thing is, we have no control over that person’s illness.  The only thing we have control over is our self; what we think, what we say, how we love.

I don’t want to be viewed as fragile.  I want to make it known to everyone around me, “Please!  No wearing of the kid gloves, no treading on eggshells.  Just be yourself!”  Sometimes I think what I see is a restricted version of selves.  I guess there is a certain pressure that comes with “being yourself.”  The intermittent worry one might have of, “How am I doing?”  If you find yourself choosing words carefully, avoiding certain topics, deciding for your friend what he/she can or cannot handle…you are probably not being yourself. 

Truth is, I'm not fragile.  I think I'm pretty solid if I do say so myself.  I have been through hell and back due to this depression.  I admit, I have my down days but nothing that leaves me feeling so fragile as I did before.  And if people want to know what it was like or how I’m handling it now, it's ok to ask.  I would be so happy to share. 

But I’m not strong; not in the eyes of society.  I have a chronic illness and I will be viewed as forever fragile.

 

*Let it be known that these views are my own.  These statements are not meant to blanket any chronic illness.  My feelings do not dictate the feelings of others who might also be suffering with some type of illness.  These views and these feelings are my own and no one else’s.  I did not write this with intent to hurt, harm, or offend.