Last week I tried to dig in on the dark part of being struck down with a mysterious chronic illness (just low grade fevers and fatigue, that’s it) for years. If the concerned messages from some friends and followers mean anything, I must have succeeded. Chronic illness is a living death of many things you carried, and you must grieve things you can’t have anymore that you held important. But my own path through the day to day wasn’t all terrible, and you learn some things about yourself and about the world. Wisdom while not always worth the price is still wisdom, and golden.
“Chronic illness is a living death of many things you carried, and you must grieve things you can’t have anymore that you held important.“
This is a great sentence.