What is it that I should write about, I ask myself? I don’t know echoes the answer in my vacant head as the curser blinks on a blank page of regretful emptiness. If I write about not knowing what to write about, will it clear my mixed up mess of a brain? Given my current state of mind, considering the answer, I’ve come to a conclusion of doubt and resistance. I am angry that words defy me today. I am frustrated by my lack of imagination. Where has my sense of artistry gone and why has it left me abandoned and alone?
My blog is supposed to provide comfort to the chronically ill but in truth, I’m tired of being chronically ill. I’m tired of pushing down the endlessly dreary feeling that my life has come to nothingness. I think I’ve lost my sense of moral outrage that my body has betrayed me. This is my new normal and I fear that I have come to accept it as such. I am broken. I am defeated and I am beaten. Sarcoidosis has subdued my purpose and stolen my determination to continue the fight against the intolerable fact that I am not who I once was or who I want to be.
Sometimes my sarcoidosis feels bigger than I am, like a giant ogre ready to oppress and slay me into submission, taking what little will I have left and devouring it as only a monster can do, striping me of hope and purpose. Sometimes it feels like because sarcoidosis changed my life so dramatically, it has ransacked my identity, my passion and my drive. I don’t know who I am some days other than a person with a chronic disease, forgotten by the rest of the world, left in quiet isolation to wilt and wither away.
I know my disease is not who I am. I know these feelings are only temporary moments of insecurity, brought on by a body changed through disease and a life altered by unwelcome illness. I know that I am more than my sarcoidosis. Though I don’t yet know how, I am convinced that I can tame these beastly feelings inside me because, my spirit may be shaken but it is mighty. I know in the depth of my soul that I am tenacious and whatever demons try to slay my animation will ultimately be beaten. So these heavy feelings I am experiencing, while they impede my ability and even my desire to write for now, they will not cripple me forever and they will not permanently change my want for hopefulness or my inclination to seek joy. I will find my passion once again and words will defy me no longer.