Just recently it was national Mental Health day.
In years previous it's like I was too stubborn to admit that mental health isn't a black and white question. That sometimes our mental health is in that grey area. Before Crohn's, I would have defined myself as a person who never gave up. I was strong-willed and refused to break. Nothing took me down, and I refused to take anyone down with me. Maybe it was a certain level of toxic positivity I had always chosen to live by.
Now that's not to say I didn't have some great mental breakdowns in my day. If you've been following me you know that in 2015 one of my dear friends was killed in a car accident, and then about 3 months later my adopted grandpa died, and I snapped, sold everything bought an RV, and just disappeared. Then one day I got drunk and bought a dog.
Boom all caught up.
I still at that time felt resilient.
Then in the Fall of 2018 I woke up and I knew something was wrong in my body, but I wasn't ready to admit it. Spring of 2019 I was diagnosed with a pretty nasty type of Crohns, June of 2019 was spent in a hospital in Saskatoon (not where I'm from or know people) October of 2019 I had 2 separate emergency surgeries for my Crohns. Directly after that, the darkness started.
I was alone, in pain, in my bed, and looking at what my life used to be. What my body used to look like, how not moon-faced my face was. I cried, and I cried, and I cried. I was angry at I'm pretty sure everyone in my life, and I was choosing to carry a pretty big chip on my shoulder. I told the universe right then and there to let me go. That I was done fighting. Honestly, to my dismay, I woke up the next morning. Still in pain, in the same mental place as the night before. But this time even more frustrated. Looking at Instagram made me even angrier, my friends running around made me angry. The fact that I crapped my pants at 26 years old made me livid. I was choosing to cycle through some pretty negative stuff.
It took 3 months before I could move around again, and due to that I sunk deeper into this darkness I had built up. Then people started talking when I shared my story.
Saying things like "You're so strong" or "you're such a fighter"
When in reality behind closed doors every night I was giving up. I was telling the universe I was done and to take me away.
Literally.
Every.
Night.
In January each day little things started changing. I forced myself to get up and leave my house every single morning. I started waking up with the sun. Reading, investing in myself, and little by little I felt like spots of the "old Shay" was coming back. Then, I had to understand that I didn't want old Shay back. I had gone through too much and felt too much to not learn from it. I started telling people I had Crohn's, I started sharing my story, and even more so I started reaching out to the IBD community to find the support I so desperately wanted.
People talk about how Crohn's is hard on your body. Because that's easy to see. It's easy to notice when someone is going to the bathroom 20 times a day, or when they are in terrible pain after drinking water. It's easy to see them swallowing medications and going to the doctor.
But we don't talk about how isolating chronic illnesses are (I'm speaking purely from a Crohns perspective). When we have to go to the bathroom 20 times a day, going out doesn't happen. Doctors' appointments take priority over work or the movies. Then you get people who mean well, but don't get it and say "We can hang out when you're better"
What we don't get is how much it sucks that one day you feel on top of the world and the next you have to fight to leave the bed.
Mental health and chronic illness go hand in hand.
Because sometimes we are too tired to have self care, and even more often we are mad at our bodies for failing us. There are times when we want to be normal or wish we didn't have the scars or trauma that naturally happens with hospital stays. We think about people who don't have a GI doctor as one of their most called people. Or those of you who don't have to deal with insurance, medications, and "lowering your stress" when medication fails, or an insurer refuses to pay. Even worse when people ask you how you are, and you really want to give them good news, but more often than not it's just meh. Your tummy hurts, your eyes are tired, and you don't want to eat.
Mental health and chronic illness need to be talked about more openly. Because it's HARD. It's hard to fight, because that fight, is just living, and honestly, we don't fight all the time. More often than not "fighting" that is so "inspiring" is me hidden away sobbing, wishing for it to be done.
Let's break that taboo surrounding those dark corners of your mind.
Right now I'm in a pretty decent place (but my disease is also starting to be in a decent place) It's much easier to have better mental health when you are deemed slightly more healthy, and it's so easy to let your mental health slip when you are not. If you're in the same boat as me, or even just a similar one. I'm HERE for you. I'll listen to you vent, cry, and break down about your struggles. Because we aren't strong all the time, and we aren't fighters. We are living with something awful because we don't have a choice to not to.
I've said this before and I'll say it again, check in on people you care about. A text, a funny meme, a call, a care package or a random stop by makes a HUGE difference in the day of someone who's in the darkness. Folks, take care of your mental health, take care of your body, and your soul. It's the only one you have, and it's the only one you'll get.
Your chronic illness isn't your body failing you, it's your body winning against itself.
Chronic illness looks like me.
Also.. 90% of this I was trying to not spell "chronic" like "cronic" because of Crohn's haha