One of my biggest struggles with IBD has been grief. And I’m not grieving the loss of a family member, a friend, or a loved one—I’m grieving the loss of myself. I was born with an incredible desire and urge to be social and active. It was a huge part of who I was, what made me, me. When I became sick, I had no idea I was about to slowly watch the person I had once been, fade away.
From Social to Solitary I became quiet and was unable to leave the house. I watched as my friends and family carried on with their lives, making memories as my illness robbed me of mine. I sat bitterly observing and praying for my chance. It felt as if the life I had built was slowly slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. 10 Years of Chronic Illness In the past 10 years of being chronically ill and disabled, I began to forget the girl who "died." I started to forget what life was like without pain, repression, anxiety, and depression. The version of me who lived without constant fatigue and fear seemed like a distant memory. The Fear of Never Healing I was beginning to give up hope that I would ever be healthy again. I’m terrified that I will never heal. I know that many people with chronic illness carry this fear—will I ever feel like myself again? It’s a hard reality to face, but it’s part of the journey we never expected to take. ∎
Find Ashley on Instagram:
@the.ash.ann
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