When you’ve been ill long enough, it’s easy to fall into the sick role – or at least the mindset of that. You go through the motions and you hope that one day something will change, and yet do nothing to change your mindset.
Now. Don’t get me wrong, I would never say that an illness is caused by one’s mindset. I’ve heard that one so many times, and I cried every time I heard it. However, I do think that mindset plays a huge part in how we deal with illness.
I’m not perfect. There have been many times where I have just given up and thought that I’ll never get better, I’ll never get to live the life I’m so desperate to lead. And that’s valid, that’s ok. But that mindset is damaging. That mindset is likely what has caused my anxiety.
I was writing over the past week, trying to deal with what was going on in my mind, trying to fight against the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness and it suddenly came to me:
“Maybe I exist to feel so much pain, so that someone may exist with none.”
I am a medical mystery. No one can quite tell me exactly what is happening to me or my body. No one can quite explain my symptoms, or put them to something diagnosable. And maybe that is my purpose. Maybe, through my own struggles, I will make it possible for other people to get diagnosed quicker and more effectively than myself. Maybe I will show what medications people with my symptoms shouldn’t be given. Maybe I have been given this to make a difference, to stop other people feeling alone and helpless.
I’ve been struggling since I was 15 to understand why I was given this burden. Me, the girl who dreamt of Oxford and being a lawyer and changing the world one protest after the other. And I think I finally understand. I was given this burden to make a change. Me, the girl who now writes full time, who’s plans have changed. The girl who wants to raise awareness, who’s ok being the quiet one in the room. I still want to make a change, but I’ve realized that I no longer need to be in the streets to do that. I can make that change from my bed, or my desk or the sofa…or even from the doctors office.
I have been ignoring my calling, preferring to hide behind the rubble of the dreams I once had. Sometimes that’s easier. But hiding has never been something I’m good at, and I now feel like I am strong enough to fight back. To stand up, and make a change. To use this for the good of others. It may not be easy, it may not be painless, but when did God ever give his hardest battles to his weakest soldiers?
I am strong enough in Him to fight this. I am strong enough.