This post is part of a Patients For A Moment blog carnival that Duncan is hosting. This month’s PFAM blog carnival topic is “Write a letter to your pre-illness, pre-diagnosis self.”
I was supposed to write a (short) letter to pre-illness me. This was harder than it sounds, because it was hard to know what to focus on. Details? General wisdom? In the end, I went with generals because I couldn’t figure out which details to focus on.
Dear Pre-Illness Me, I hate to break it to you, but there’s no good way to do this other than to rip off the bandaid. Something very wicked your way comes. Soon. Ok so that sounds like something of an epic, species-threatening scope. It isn’t, relax. But it is absolutely of a life-shattering, personal reality-discombobulating scope. Right now, you have no conception of the realities of chronic illness, and there are some things that I wish we’d (I’d? You’d? This is so confusing…) figured out before it happened. Live your dreams, but think of some backup dreams just in case. Fight for your dreams, by all means. But remember that some things in life can’t be found no matter how much you fight for them. Sometimes it’s necessary to have back up dreams. Welcome to the real world, I hate to be the one to usher you in. Stop taking your friends and family for granted. It’s so easy to get caught up in your own life, but remember that you give what you get in life. Someday soon you’ll realize how important those friends are to you. And at that point it will be so much harder to be able to hang out as much as you’d like. Don’t let the people who are important to you drift so far away that they don’t want to fight for that friendship even when you do. Friends are important, but you won’t truly understand how important they are until the world starts to crash down around you. On the flip side of that: stop wasting your time with the people you can’t rely on. If you can’t rely on them when life is peachy, you won’t be able to rely on them when things turn rotten. Learn to choose your battles. You have to be able to shrug off the minor grievances. Your strength will be limited. This means you can’t waste the strength that you have on things that don’t really matter in the long run. That coupon you forgot to use? That paper-cut on your finger? Yeah, not worth all that whining… Don’t take your free time for granted. You won’t be able to have as much free time pretty soon because you’re going to require a lot more rest. Moreover, what you can actually do with that free time will be even more restricted by the realities of chronic pain, arthralgias, myalgias and the need to stay out of the sun. So get out there on the lake or hike up that mountain, that chance may never come back around. Learn to truly appreciate the little things. These are the things that matter, but they’re easy to forget about in a world filled with constant new thrills and adventures. That afternoon you could spend reading with a cup of tea? Lovely. That time you were able to have a three hour chat a coffee shop with a close friend? Wonderful. That family dinner you managed to cook and eat without fighting with your sister? Near miraculous. These are the things that matter. It’s easy to forget about these little things when the bigger picture has fallen apart. Just remember – the people that matter, and the things that truly matter, are still there. It’s easy to lose sight of them, but they still exist. When things fall apart, it’s easy to fall into a despair, but those little things that truly made life meaningful are still there. You just have to remember to appreciate them. Love, Future You
The thing is, though, that I can only try to remember what I really thought and felt back then. What I think I remember of myself is tainted by hindsight. Who I’m trying to write a letter to and who I really was back then are two different people. So my letter keeps coming back, marked with words that Elvis immortalized: Return to Sender, Address Unknown.