For the first time since I could remember, I wasn’t utterly drained. 

 

It was a weird feeling. So weird it is probably hard to understand unless you have spent years ending each day with every drop of energy and willpower drained out of you. And even then — it’s weird, y’all.

 

But some of you know exactly what I am talking about. 

 

When you have a chronic illness, it is often an entire war just to get through each day. Spoons — energy — is limited. Pain is high. The sheer force of will it takes to get out of bed, get dressed, and do the basics of functioning is insane. 

 

But we don’t have any other choice, so chronic illness warriors develop self discipline that matches that of the most dedicated Olympian. In survival mode, that is what keeps up alive and functioning.

 

But for some of us, survival mode will come to an end. And it’s amazing. I’ve written about the struggles of healing in previous blog posts. However, when survival mode comes to an end, and even when it doesn’t, too often we learn to live scraping the barrel. 

 

Sometimes, you have to give it every drop of energy you have. Sometimes, you have to function through excruciating pain. But chronic illness warrior, I want to remind you that you don’t always have to. And when things get better, it’s okay to let off the gas a little. 

 

When I crawled into bed that night and wasn’t utterly drained, my first thought was that something was wrong. I felt jittery and my brain was buzzing. How was I supposed to calm down or sleep? I analyzed my body and brain, searching for anxiety or signs that my thyroid and adrenals were acting up again. 

 

They weren’t. 

 

I simply wasn’t bone-weary. 

 

My health is in a really good place right now, and I’m doing well. I’m learning to reengage in normal life and function similarly to my peers. But I have struggled to know what to do with the feeling of being simply tired. Or maybe even not tired. Doesn’t that mean I should be doing more? Pushing harder?

 

Sometimes. 

 

But not necessarily. God didn’t create us to live a life scraping the barrel. When I think of God, I think of abundance. Of green pastures and still waters and tables of food and rest for the weary and light burdens and how He came so that we may have life. And I had abundance in my illness and weariness. In those hard seasons, God met my needs and gave me other forms of abundance. Intimacy with Him, for one. 

 

However, having an abundance of energy to the point where I actually have a little left in your tank at the end of the day is not a bad thing. Not at all. It is a gift. 

 

When someone asks me if I can do something, I tend to take that very seriously. Can I clean the counters? I take stock of my mental and physical health. Will it cause me to flare? Like, a serious flare? Then yes. Can I come on the hike? If I won’t die (literally) or end up in bed for a few days, I usually say yes. Even if I know it will be painful and unpleasant. Because I am well acquainted with my limits. Most people can do far more than they think they can. But I’ve learned via my deathbed exactly how much that is and where the line is drawn. Maybe you have too. 

 

I am thankful for the gifts of self discipline and will power and endurance that battling through each day has given me, but we don’t have to live each day depleted. Sometimes we get to go through a day or week or month or even year without bumping up against the red limit line. 

*Part two coming July 5th