I have been dealing with health issues for several years now. I hate to admit that, but it’s true. I’ve prided myself on being a healthy person all my life (that pesky pride thing again). But I can’t honestly claim that identity anymore.
Not that I’m actually sick. Abundant tests, procedures and consultations have all confirmed that my body is basically functioning as it should. I’m not coughing, I don’t have a runny nose. I’m not vomiting and I’m not running a fever. My blood has everything it should have. My bones and joints appear fine. My body is a bit lumpy, but all the lumps are benign.
I do hurt, though. All the time, though in varying degrees. And I’m tired. Every day. And a list of other minor things that individually aren’t a big deal and medically appear normal, but together add up to —
And that’s frustrating. It’s beyond frustrating. My brain and my faith can’t seem to wrap themselves around the possibility of my being sick without actually being sick. How is that possible?
I haven’t really wanted to talk about all this because I worry that people will think I’m as crazy as I feel. That I won’t be believed. Or worse, that I will be seen differently. Weaker. More annoying.
I’ve even had a difficult time talking to God about this, because deep down I’ve been afraid that God might just decide to heal me without ever telling me the cause. If that happens, I fear I might just believe I have been crazy this whole time, just weak and whiney.
But I’m choosing freedom for my elephant and for me. I’m tired of trying to hide this from God and from those around me. I’m ready for some healing, even if just the healing strength of being heard.
So if you are wondering how I’m doing, I’m tired and I hurt. But I’m okay, and I’m still me.