As I write this, I must tell you, a more beautiful day could not be had. The sun is shining from one of the bluest skies I’ve ever witnessed. The temperature, a pleasant 75°F. There’s a slight breeze that blows my hair in ticklish wisps across my face. The warmth of the sun on my pale cheeks feels heavenly. And I am tired, so tired. I am weary to the bone.
I got some decent sleep last night, which is an improvement from the few nights before. Despite what some may call an obsession with Skittles, I eat fairly well. I’m at least a part time vegan. I drink mostly water during the day, including the water in my regular two cups of coffee. I have a glass, ok a glass and a half, of wine each night. I exercise regularly. My blood pressure is great, my bloodwork is stellar. And I am so, so tired.
And that happens from time to time with me, in this broken body. I get tired. I don’t feel well. I find myself in an emotional funk. It’s usually fairly quick to pass. It doesn’t invade my life too much. It’s a nuisance, a pest, a pebble in my shoe. It’s there and it’s no wonder.
My body has never been a shining example of proper health. I’ve been wearing glasses since I was a kid. I have no thyroid function. I have a genetic mutation that caused my body to spontaneously grow a tumor out of the very stuff that was designed to heal me. Obviously things aren’t working so well in this sack of skin. So, it makes sense that from time to time I will feel a little emotionally and physically spent.
It’s something I’ve grown used to, as so many of us sickies have to. Today I just can’t (insert activity here). It’s not something I want to celebrate, rather it’s something I’ve come to a sort of acceptance about. There will be days when I am tired and slow, the words don’t come, I can’t find much to chuckle about, my body just can’t do that thing. It’s not pleasant, but it’s okay. I get it. I understand. That’s just how I am.
It’s not to say I’ve given up or given in or accepted some fate that I’ve fabricated in my head. I will forge ahead always, just ask my stubborn Irish will. Neither of us takes no for an answer. But one must accept reality for what it is. And my reality is that my body is broken. My reality is that I will never always be 100%.
And that’s what makes unsolicited advice and frilly ideas and romantic notions such hard pills to swallow when you’re like this, when you’re broken. See, almost everyone has an idea about how you can simply improve your life by (insert these simple steps). Bless their hearts, they try with their sage advice, but I can tell you they’re not helpful or cute or kind. Quite frankly, they’re insulting, condescending, and downright outrageous.
Take this gem, for example:

This is bullshit.
This is the kind of malarkey we, us sickies, are inundated with daily. Have you tried essential oils? You should cut out carbs. Do harder exercise for a shorter period of time. Do easier exercise for a longer period of time. Sleep more. Eat less. Cut out alcohol. Cut out caffeine. Don’t focus on your disease. Have you heard of reiki?
Get more sun.
Drink more water.
Get eight hours of rest.
Go outside.
Move your body.
Eat a healthy diet.
I have done (insert all those things). And, guess what? I’m still tired, so tired. I am weary to the bone. Now what? Got any more advice for me?
What I want to say is, try it. Try living in this body for a day, a week, a few goddamn years. Try being exhausted after the simplest of chores. Try fearing putting that first foot on the floor each morning because you never know what might hurt, or where, or how much. Try never knowing why. Try wanting to do more, go further, but your body won’t let you. Try never knowing if your next step will land you on your ass. Try doing the math and realizing the next forty years will most likely be even more of a challenge than the first.
But I don’t. I nod. I say thank you with a smile. I’ll look into that has become my favorite comeback. Then, I shoot you the bird without you noticing. I tell you to fuck off under my breath. I take your handy pamphlet and I crumple it as tight as my aching hands will allow me and I toss it in the trash with a good riddance and a fond farewell.
And I carry on living in a broken body, more tired than you could ever know.
So, before you spout off your pearls of wisdom, before you hand out your glorious advice, try it. Try living in this body first. Or hers. Or his. Or any one of the numerous other broken bodies with their myriad maladies around you on any given day. Try it. Try it for a day, for a week, for a few goddamn years. Try it. Then, maybe you’ll see why Dr. Sunshine doesn’t work for me.
*Featured image courtesy of Pixabay
It really makes me cross when people offer this kind of advice to people who aren’t well. ‘Your meds/treatments are cooked up by the corporations, why not try x/y/z instead? it’s much better for you!’ I understand that looking after yourself and being outside can have a part to play in your wellbeing, but to encourage people to cut them out completely is irresponsible, dangerous and stupid. My mother has bipolar disorder and to ask her to stop her lithium would be asking her to plunge her life back into what it was before it was diagnosed.
I’ve been following what is going on in Venezuela as well and read an article this week about psychiatric hospitals there. Their medicine stock is now so low that patients who could previously function relatively well as they were given medication to manager their conditions are now having to be restrained for their own and the safety of the other patients. THAT is what will happen if people abandon their treatment and follow the sunshine and fresh air nonsense 😡
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It is especially frustrating when it’s geared toward those with mental health issues because I often wonder if those giving it really understand that those are real diseases too, just like physical ones.
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You’ve said this so incredibly well – they’re all good things, and it’s all very well to suggest them & try them, but when they don’t work because, as you say, our bodies are broken, it becomes frustrating. I’m struggling with acceptance again at the moment, struggling to be ‘okay’ with not being okay, but you’re right; it’s not giving up or giving in, it’s accepting how things are without closing off to future possibilities, which is actually a lot healthier than going around in circles getting exhausted & frustrated with yourself and your body for being so exhausted and not able to do the things you feel you want or should do. Great post!! x
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I go through waves of acceptance and non acceptance. It will be a lifelong issue, I suppose. I do find it gets easier to accept the older I get and the further I am from my original diagnosis, but I still struggle sometimes too.
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Sometimes I wonder if the platitudes we offer aren’t an attempt to stave off our own fears. If I can help you, we think, maybe I could control the situation if it happens to me? I think it’s another form of victim blaming. Outsiders looking in assuming we could have/should have done something different. I’m beginning to understand just how destructive those kinds of thoughts are.
Beautiful post, as usual.
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I do think that’s part of it and I also think it is often just wanting to be helpful. I don’t think people realize that you’re the most helpful when you’re quiet and listening.
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Beautifully put Christine (as always.)
I am impressed with your ability to hold back your pissed-off-ness and ability to say “I’ll look into that.” I am not sure if I’d be able to react without sarcasm or sending JoJo over to claw these knob-heads.
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I get it so often that I had to find a way to blow people off without being rude. It truly surprises me the number of people that think a complex disease can be cured with simple household items. It’s scary. Lol
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Preeeeeaaaaaach! I don’t wholly discount the advice as totally useless, but I do know it won’t just “solve” my body. I go stand outside, “grounding,” and getting some sun, because it MIGHT help. I try to eat well because at least I won’t be actively working toward making things worse. I have, in the past, cut out alcohol, and carbs, and sugar, and was utterly miserable and it didn’t make me feel any better. I’ve tried ALL the damn things, and none have been a magic cure. Nor have any drugs. Some of us just got unlucky with our bodies, and the advice, while well-intentioned, can definitely get annoying. I once went off on a friend who posted on Facebook some meme about Americans being so addicted to drugs (medicine) and proudly declaring that she was drug-free. It was so holier-than-though, and it made me so pissed. I’ve tried all the alternative medicine (homeopathy, naturopathy, acupunture, massage, reiki, chiropractic) and none made much difference. So when people judge me for having to take meds, I lose my damn mind. So, I repeat: preeeeeeaaaaaach!
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That’s what got me with this one, the word doctor. You’re pretty damn lucky if the only doctor you need is water and pretty damn dense to think that’s all the rest of us need.
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Spectacular, beautiful writing. That’s one thing you do every time without fail.
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You are too kind. Thank you.
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Very well put and you have just made me stop in my tracks and appreciate all the bits of me that are in good nick. Thank you. Sadly there is no cure-all and the ‘wisdom gurus’ should think before they spout! Although I will probably still go around suggesting yoga (my preference is the very easy form!) to anyone who’ll listen! JIll
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Well, yoga is good stuff, so I can’t fault you for that.
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Well said!! I am a type II diabetic. I have people tell me ALL the time what it is that I need to feel better, or be cured. I have actually tried many of those things. I lost the weight, guess what, still diabetic. I eat a healthy diet, still got the diabetes. I walk several miles a day and do yoga,,,yep, you guessed it, still have diabetes. People need to keep their sunshine and bullshit to themselves unless they can walk in another’s shoes…
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But have you tried essential oils?
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AAAGGGHHHH!! LOL
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Youre so right those things might work for some people but not everyone there is no one size fits all approach.
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Fucking YES! There you go again- firing out another fucking brilliant post. This sentence is the most relatable sentence I have ever read “Try fearing putting that first foot on the floor each morning because you never know what might hurt, or where, or how much.”. God, I wish everyone I knew read this post. My favourite piece of unsolicited advice was “you’re like this because you don’t eat meat. Try eating meat again”. Sure, because every single vegetarian has the same decrepit body as mine and every single meat-eater is a perfect picture of health- that makes complete sense that this comes down to my diet. Also, I laughed out loud at “I’ll look into that has become my favorite comeback. Then, I shoot you the bird without you noticing.”. I should’ve shot that person the bird. Also, also I love you.
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The feeling is mutual!
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