Luxury

I am well aware my version of ‘healthy’ is not everyone’s. But this October, I have walked more than I have in years. I have still had intense flare ups, mental health meltdowns, and I am crying while typing because this is 'luxury' for me: Not the lack of these things, but a slightly increased ability to cope with them.

It is so difficult to explain, the hours of trying to frame your life in a positive light when there is so much you can’t do— the brief glimpses of ‘health’, (whatever that looks like for you) can be intoxicating. Fresh air. Exercise. Cooking. Seeing friends. These things are essential nourishment for life, but for me they are luxuries.

When my illness fluctuates up it’s like a good meal I want to savour and yet I can't help but devour it—

And then it’s gone.

And I'm left licking the plate hoping for one last droplet or crumb.

And from the outside?

It’s someone’s nightmare.

And it’s hard to reframe it, the constant pain, the surprise jealousy that winds you, the bitterness that seeps in slowly like poison.

But I am trying.

You see even when it's good, it's gruelling.

Yes I can walk, but at what cost?

It's luxury.