We've all had those days. When IBD kicks into high gear or a flare is looming over our world at-large, just getting out of bed feels heroic, while every bit of life falls into perspective. We create new lists of necessities. Somehow it's no longer about eating three solid meals a day, but managing to at least digest some liquid nutrition a few times a day. When days turn to weeks, and you drop weight along with every ounce of energy, hope can easily feel distant and unattainable. Who/what do you turn to?
For me, it's faith and friends, as I talk about on my healthy living page. Other times, it's the little things. I'm always touched when my 12-year old cat senses a flare and curls up on my stomach and chest as I lay in bed. It's as if he senses the disarray and wants to send healing power with those purrs and cuddles.
I had a small "aha" moment today while driving to Whole Foods (or, as we lovingly call it, Whole Paycheck) to stock up on their gluten-free scones, which I am officially obsessed with, by the way. Check them out!
While driving along, I missed my turn (I may or may not have been talking on the phone - shame, shame!) and had to navigate through a confusing neighborhood to get back on a familiar road. I remembered being a child in my mom's car driving around town, and asking her, "Mom, how do you always know where to go?" The world seemed so big and overwhelming, so unfamiliar. She said to me, "You take it bit by bit, developing small sections in your mind, that then piece together into a map of your town."
So my analogy is this: When you feel like you can't go on, don't expect to take on the whole world - just one neighborhood, or one tiny section of life, at a time. And before you know it, you'll have created a whole new map of your world.
Crohnies unite!