"Tug of War"- Lauren's moving poem capturing a tumultuous relashionship with chronic illness.

Some mornings, I wake up and stare at the ceiling for what feels like hours.

My body feels heavy, like I’m made of wet sand.

Even breathing feels like a task.

I lie there, caught in the same war that’s been waging inside of me for years.

I can’t let this illness ruin my life.

But I have to listen to my body and rest.

It’s a cruel world of tug-of-war.

On one side, there’s this version of me that still dreams.

The one who wants to work, see friends, laugh, and have a normal life.

The one who believes I can still be something, still do something meaningful.

The voice is loud.

It tells me to push through the pain.

To not let this illness define me.

I tell myself that if I just try harder.

A little bit harder than I can get my life back.

And then, there’s a quieter voice, more gentler.

It tells me to stop and to lie down.

To listen to the signals my body is sending me.

This voice reminds me that pushing too hard today means more pain tomorrow.

You need rest. You’re not weak for needing it.

Every day, I try to balance between both voices.

I make plans, then cancel them.

I start tasks, then abandon them halfway through.

I smile at people and tell them I’m doing okay.

When I’m breaking under the weight of guilt and exhaustion.

Guilt for doing too much.

Guilt for not doing enough.

There’s no winning.

I rest, I feel useless.

If I push through, I feel broken.

Every choice feels wrong.

I just keep waiting patiently for this rope to break.

Lauren Nolan.

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Clinical definitions will never capture the full weight of living with these conditions.

But we can.

Chronically Me