It's the simple things

Living with an invisible chronic illness is hard. Rough. I look good so therefore I must feel good. I have color in my,face, so I should feel like getting out and conquering the world. 

Some days I wonder what it would be like to have something people could rally around. Cancer, broken leg, surgical procedure or a hole in my stomach. But my sufferings are invisible. Only noticed by those who love me and know me. Only distinguishable by those who spend time with me. 

To most, I look lazy or like a big baby. But my pain, is real. A low heart rate is real. A constant diZiness that makes everything spin. Continual nausea. Intermittent vomiting daily. Pain that is like a stabbing knife. Decreased vision and hearing. Struggling to find the right words. Battling seizures. It is real even though I smile and look ok. 

So a kind word, a ride, a meal, a treat, a card, a text, a phone call, a caring voice, a helping hand, an arm extended to balance me as I am faLling, a sincere question, all matter beyond my ability to express gratitude. The little things ease the burden and give a much needed life line, a reason to keep fighting and the reassurance that even in my disabled body, I still matter. 

My wish for Christmas. Each person would say a kind word or deed to someone with an invisible illness. That is the greatest gift to be given. Belief. Understanding. Caring. A smile. A hug. It lifts spirits and renews hope and encourages the fight to continue. It is a gift that lasts longer than the moment but a something we can grasp onto when life is rough and unbearable. It is a selfless and such needed gift.