Truth Be Told

I absolutely love the song “Truth Be Told” by Matthew West. If you’re unfamiliar with it, here are a few of the lyrics:

 

 

Sound familiar? It sure does to me. In fact, if the truth be told, I’ve been putting off this post for some time. I have kept things inside because I feared others would view me differently or see me as weak. However, I feel the Lord telling me to ignore the enemy’s lies because it’s okay to share what’s been going on.

 

If you’ve been following my page, then you know that the past couple years, especially the last one, have been exceedingly difficult—physically, emotionally, mentally, every way. I’ve experienced increased, near-constant flare-ups. (Many are the result of Long Covid, which has increased my symptoms, as well as added numerous new ones.) This has made it hard to navigate daily life. It’s taken a toll emotionally. I’ve been grieving who I once was, as I’m now unable to do some of the things I used to love doing. Then throw in the grief from losing my beloved grandmother, and, at times, it’s been almost more than I can handle.

 

Time feels like it’s moving on while I’m stuck in place. Truth be told, I’ve often questioned God and wondered what His purpose is for me. How could He have one for me after all that’s happened? Yet I have heard His still, small voice tell me to trust Him. I continue to pray and ask for His strength and direction. I’ve struggled to find new ways to see the joy in each day as my world has been shaken to the core. I’ve realized that it’s okay to admit to myself that I’m not okay … and I’ve been working to convince myself that it’s okay to admit that to others, too. The Lord clearly said we’d have troubles in life. So being open about my struggles doesn’t mean I’m giving up or losing my faith. It doesn’t mean I want your pity. It just means I’m human—nothing more, nothing less. And I shouldn’t feel “less than” as a result.

 

Truth be told, I admit I feel a bit lost. I really miss who I was before chronic pain and illness. I miss not being in pain all the time. (Actually, I can no longer remember what that felt like, as it was so long ago.) I miss being able to go places (be it church, concerts, book or writers’ conferences, etc.) without the fear of having sights/smells/sounds/travel/heat, etc. trigger an incident or flare-up. I miss the trust I used to have for the medical profession and their ability to heal someone when they’re sick instead gaslighting (dismissing) them. I miss being able to trust that others (professionals, friends, or family) would believe me when I tell them what’s going on with me. I miss believing that everything would soon work itself out. I miss being able to snuggle in bed and read or sleep in without needing to toss and turn because there is literally no comfortable position. I miss having energy vs. being exhausted from the moment I wake up until the time I (attempt to) go to bed at night. I miss being able to stay up late or get up early and still feel rejuvenated. I miss being confident in myself and my body, taking for granted that it would do what I want it to do. I miss being able to walk across the room without stumbling. I miss turning around, bending over, or being in a vehicle without feeling dizzy or lightheaded. I miss being able to use cute, fun purses and dresses because I need to know I have pockets and a purse large enough for things (snacks, medicines, a neck fan, a hand warmer, just to name a few) I might need if I have an incident. I miss not having to travel with six different pillows and tons of suitcases to cover all the things I travel with “just in case.” In fact, I miss just being able to travel!

 

I have lost versions of myself. But I’ve also discovered new versions. I’ve learned a lot from being chronically ill, and I’m proud of the ways I’ve grown through these challenges. As a child, I certainly didn’t envision a life with chronic pain and illness and grief. But it wasn’t a surprise to the Lord.

 

 

Truth be told, it’s been such a blessing to know that, even before I knew I’d need a flexible career, the Lord led me to and gifted me for one I absolutely love. The flexibility works perfectly with my unpredictable symptoms and flare-ups. And it’s definitely something that brings me joy.

 

As I mentioned earlier, I have struggled (and still do, on occasion) to find new ways to add joy to my day, since there are so many things I am no longer able to do. Thankfully, I have found some activities I enjoy, including jigsaw puzzles (and I now have quite a collection!) and birdwatching. 

 

We have a camera feeder, as well as a window feeder, and it truly puts a huge smile on my face to watch the variety of birds. It also reminds me of my grandma, who really enjoyed watching birds, as well. We would discuss our feathered visitors in our daily calls during the final few years of her life, so it makes me feel much closer to her. Watching the birds makes me realize how much I have been missing for way too many years, when I felt it was not possible to stop and pause because I had too many things to do, I needed to multitask, etc. I’m very thankful the Lord has shown me that it’s okay to slow down and stop to watch and admire some of His magnificent creations.

 

In addition to a greater appreciation for nature, I now have greater appreciation and empathy for others because I have experienced firsthand that you truly don’t know/can’t understand what someone is going through on the inside, particularly if it’s based solely on what you see on the outside. I was raised to treat others the way I wanted to be treated, so that is something I have always done. And I truly believe we are all dealing with something. We all want someone to take a few moments to sincerely ask how we are doing, to listen, and to do their best to understand, even when they don’t.

 

Another thing I’m learning is the importance of self-care. Truth be told, I often fail at doing this, though I do a great job of reminding others how critical it is. As I have experienced — and perhaps you have, too — when we don’t listen to our bodies, they stop whispering at us … and start yelling. Therefore, it behooves us to pay attention to the whispers. We are unable to be there for others if we aren’t there for ourselves first.

 

It is also key to be kind to yourself. When you live with chronic pain and illness, it’s all too easy to get down on and blame yourself for situations beyond your control, to feel like a burden to friends and loved ones, etc. The comparison trap is a very real struggle, and it is never helpful.

 

I want to share this quote I came across recently:

 

“You don’t have to figure out how you’re going to live with this pain for the rest of your life. You just have to figure out how you’re going to carry it for today.” – Daniell Koepke.

 

Trying to keep up with everything (life, work, social media, etc.) is hard enough without adding in chronic pain and illness. Truth be told, there are days when it’s hard to see the end of that tunnel, particularly when it feels like you are constantly fighting against yourself and your own body. Then there’s the uncertainty—knowing there are no clear timelines for if, or when, the symptoms and pain might end. But if you think about it, life is uncertain for everyone. We aren’t guaranteed tomorrow. And if we’re alive, that means the Lord’s not done with us. I try to remind myself of that when the enemy tries to convince me otherwise. 

 

My purpose may have changed, but I know God has one for me. Truth be told, I haven’t figured it out yet. I’m working on discovering what that is. Do I still struggle? You bet! But if I’m able to help others feel seen, heard, understood, and less alone by speaking out (or writing a post)? What a blessing! I’m glad He’s using me that way.

 

 

To go a bit beyond Koepke’s quote, it’s important to remember that you don’t even have to figure out how to get through each day—only the next second, then minute. Look for those blessings of joy, which truly can be found in each and every day if we pay attention to them. Keep showing up. Then trust the Lord to give you the strength you need to do what He’s asking you to do, knowing that He is with you, giving you hope amid the pain.