My Body Is in Its Villain Era

But I am Not Taking Its Crap

Living with a chronic illness and autoimmune disease is like trying to navigate life with a mischievous, unpredictable gremlin clinging to your back. Chronic pain is the little jerk who never takes a vacation.

For the past three weeks, I've been in a relentless flare-up. When I saw my therapist yesterday, she took one look at me and asked, "Oh no, what's going on?"

Before I could answer, tears spilled over.

"I'm just tapped out," I admitted.

The first time my nervous system imploded like this, I had no idea what was happening to me. For months, I searched desperately for a singular cause, but eventually, I realized there wasn't just one villain; there were many.

Dr. A gently reminded me that my body has been through a lot; surgical menopause after my hysterectomy has cranked my neuropathy and autoimmune disease up to a hundred. Add stress or anxiety on top of that, and my body shuts down.

And as much as I hate it, I have to listen.

On Sunday, lying in bed, unable to function properly, frustration bubbling under my skin, my legs vibrated with anger; my feet, my hands, my face, and every nerve were staging a revolt. My body had hit its limit, and I had no choice but to stop and reassess.

What needs to change? What do I need to do differently? Because I have worked too damn hard to end up back in that terrifying place.

I struggle with putting myself first. Discussing my health constantly feels selfish, and guilt gnaws at me.

Dr. A and Phil call me out on this every time.

That damn airplane oxygen mask analogy, Dr. A loves it. If you don't take care of yourself first, you can't take care of anyone else.

So, I'm making adjustments, taking small steps to ensure my health doesn't careen off a cliff again. It's exhausting work managing neuropathy, autoimmune chaos, and the emotional toll that comes with it. Some people don't realize that chronic illness and pain are so much more than the physical aspects.

It's the anxiety, the depression, the guilt, the grief.

Some days, it's all-consuming.

But even on those days, I do something, even if that something is just breathing.

I refuse to continue to carry shame for having a body that's equal parts disaster and miracle. She may be an asshole, but she's my asshole, and I love her.

Dr. A reminded me to be gentle with myself, to mother myself, and to allow emotions to come and go without setting up a permanent residence.

To honor the ebb and flow.

So, I will keep getting up every morning. Whether I make it to the living room is another story, but most days, I do. I keep experimenting, adjusting, and moving forward.

Not long after my first major nervous system collapse, my dad told me, "You are strong, and you have support. You're not alone."

Yesterday, Dr. A said the exact same thing. I cried through most of the session, but when she said that, I laughed.

It felt like Dad was whispering in her ear.

He's right.

I am strong.

I am supported.

I am not alone.

And neither are you.

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"cut!" by Julia Michaels and Maren Morris is the ultimate anthem for my body's fuck off era. I blast it multiple times a day because every lyric hits deep—it's raw, rebellious, and precisely what I need right now.

cut! (I attached the video)

I've got clear skin from all the sleep

Clear mind from therapy

Yoga four days a week

How does she do it?

On time, never late

Find time to meditate, yeah

These days, I'm always great

How does she do it?

I'm such a pro, put a hell of a show on

As soon as I close that door shut

I'm screaming, "Cut!"

I need a moment to just let my tears fall where they want

Honestly, "Fuck!"

I've held it in long enough, I gave it all that I got

I'm screaming, "Cut!"

Don't cancel any plans

I'm present with every friend

I still trust every man

How does she do it?

I know all my lines, I'm annoyingly fine

'Til the silence at night calls my bluff

I'm screaming, "Cut!"

I need a moment to just let my tears fall where they want

Honestly, "Fuck!"

I've held it in long enough, I gave it all that I got

I'm screaming

Cry my eyes out, I give myself permission

Every good show needs an intermission

Cry my eyes out, I give myself permission

Every good show just needs an intermission