The Mighty Logo

The Things I Think About When Emerging From a Chronic Illness Flare

The most helpful emails in health
Browse our free newsletters

While in the midst of a chronic illness flare-up, it feels like I am in a fog. It feels as if everything is hazy with a deep, dark film covering my world.

When I have a flare-up from any of the things that are “wrong” with me, it is often subtle, a sort of cumulative effect. I have a few days where I feel just not quite right. I have many days of fatigue so bad I would rather drag around a bag full of bricks all day. There’s the nausea, the pain, the blurred vision, the mood swings and baseline anxiety, the all-encompassing depression and underlying fears. The daunting inability to regulate a single body system leading to fainting, the inability to digest leading to not eating, and the constant overstimulation of the nervous system often resulting in, at minimum, a neverending vibrating sensation. And there’s whatever new symptom I may have. In this most recent case, a throat and neck pain. Neck pain that receives no relief from pain killers. Throat pain that luckily is more about sensation than function, but off-putting nonetheless.

These things can last hours, days, weeks, and months and be so unpredictable and inconsistent that it is maddening. Typically when I’m in the midst of a multiple sclerosis flare, I have every cognitive defense up in order to ignore, distract, and pretend it’s not happening. I try my hardest to carry on with my daily routine and schedules and follow through with all social plans and things that I want to do despite struggling so hard.

It is similar when I’m in a depressive episode. Daily tasks feel daunting, and social plans feel crushing. However, if I pretend it’s not happening, sometimes being so busy leaves me feeling too exhausted to have time to feel the overwhelming sadness that inevitably settles in.

But, I digress. This post is about emerging from these moments and coming out on the other side.

When I move through the depression, or when I notice my symptoms (new and old) slowing down or dissipating, it feels as if I opened my front door after a storm.  When things are still and quiet and fresh and bright, that’s the most noticeable — the brightness of literally everything. When I can walk down the hall without being winded and I can sleep a full night, that’s when colors are more vibrant. When I can do yoga and go to work without feeling immense pain, that’s when I truly exhale. And when I make it through a day, or even a half-day without crying or feeling extreme anger, that’s when I know I will get through it, and I really am OK.

Coming out of a flare of any kind feels like a reset. It feels like work to put the pieces back together, but it feels more worth it each and every time I recover. There is always a thought lingering in the back of my mind (especially when new MS symptoms are involved) that I am now carrying this damage with me forever moving forward, but it feels lighter now.

I know it will always creep back in expected or not, covert or overt, physical or emotional; these things will never go away for me. However, when I am able to see that light at the end of each tunnel, I am reminded that the permanency of it all is not the worst-case scenario. The hope and the good days are truly the reminders that I am, as the kids say, living my best life — to the best of my abilities.

Getty image by Alex Walker.

Originally published: May 2, 2022
Want more of The Mighty?
You can find even more stories on our Home page. There, you’ll also find thoughts and questions by our community.
Take Me Home