Mental Heath and Chronic Illness

It’s the first few weeks of classes, and that means ice breakers. Here’s my go-to response to “tell us about yourself”: Hi, my name is Katie Good, I am a junior at the University of Michigan studying Biopsychology, Cognition, and Neuroscience, and in my free time I love to paint, chat with friends, and kickbox. After that, the attention turns away from me and I go back to learning about others. 

This description does what it needs to do; my peers and educators hear my voice, put a face to a name, and get a peek of who I am behind my mask and outside of class. But really, we all know that our icebreakers do very little to describe who we are, and half the time we aren’t even honest. It’s like a poorly written dating profile, where we lie about the hobbies we never have time for (I couldn’t tell you the last time I even touched a paintbrush). So, instead of lying to you and saying I read for fun, I want to start this article with the ice breaker response I always wish I could give.

Hi, my name is Katie Good. I’m a junior at U of M studying Biopsychology, Cognition, and Neuroscience, I get good grades, and I work hard. I’m also really tired, like all the time. I have two autoimmune disorders; Celiac Disease, which means I can’t eat gluten, and Hashimoto’s Hypothyroiditis, which means my immune system attacks my thyroid, so it doesn’t produce the hormones it should. The symptoms of these are all over the place; I feel like death if I eat anything contaminated with gluten, I lose a lot of hair, I gain weight for no reason, it gets harder to wake up, and depression creeps in and out like a roommate that has no concept of personal space. My body aches a lot, my joints can hurt, my face can get oily. Focusing can be nearly impossible. When I feel less tired, irritable, depressed, and anxious, I force myself to go kickbox and punch the shit out of a bag for 45 minutes.

I am a young adult living with chronic and invisible illnesses, and it fucking sucks. A lot of people talk about the importance of not being defined by your illnesses. I get that, and I agree, but telling me that doesn’t help. Just because my illnesses don't define me doesn’t change the fact that they will always be there. Chronic illnesses are like leeches; they stick to me, follow me around, and suck out my energy bit by bit until they’re satisfied. A lot of days, they aren’t too hungry; other than taking daily medication, I can forget they are there. But at times that my medication is off or something goes awry, those bastard leeches are starving. They just suck the life and energy out of me, making me decay a little more each day. No amount of alarms can wake me up. Words on a page become perpetually blurry. Food becomes unappetizing, but somehow none of my pants fit. No matter what I have to do, my bed keeps calling my name louder and louder. I start to question what went wrong; am I on my period? Did I take my meds today? Am I just feeling depressed? Every itch, ache, or cramp becomes a possible symptom. I’m being gaslit by my own body. Who even knew that was possible?

I just feel like more people should talk about and understand the toll that chronic and invisible illnesses take on the person that experiences them. I’m not just faking it, and I’m not just tired like everyone else. It’s so different. I didn’t ask to be like this, but I am. I would never say any of this as I introduce myself; it’s too personal and dark. But I wish I could. I wish I could shake people and help them understand what I, and many others, are going through. Just because someone seems fine, sometimes even energetic, does not at all speak for what they are experiencing internally. I can still crack a smile while experiencing a flare-up, and I still will laugh, go out with friends, and act normal. Like I said, these illnesses don’t define me. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat your friends, family, and classmates who are chronically ill a little gentler when they seem down or irritated. You have no idea what’s going on inside their head.