Self-care isn’t selfish: Using my birthday as a re-set button

One of my friends recently said I need to start doing more for me, that once I fill my own cup that energy and that fulfillment will spill onto others, without making me feel depleted and like I’m constantly in survival mode. As an IBD mom of two, who has lived with Crohn’s for more than 15 years, these challenging times we’re living in have forced us all to pause and refocus on what’s important and what we need to do to get by.

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Today is my 37th birthday. Sounds a lot older than I feel, but chronic illness has a way of forcing you to grow up and mature well beyond your years. Between the pandemic, mom life, and my advocacy work, there hasn’t been much time for a breather. I feel as though I’ve been coasting for awhile. Coasting through the day to day. Coasting through remission. Coasting just to make it through.

I don’t want to coast anymore

If you’re feeling the same, please follow my lead and that of others, who have recognized they’re ready to do more to improve their quality of life.

I want to stop being such a “yes” person.

I want to stop making excuses.

I want to stop waking up when my kids call out for me and instead start my day with a cup of coffee outside on the patio or a workout, followed by a shower, while the house is calm and quiet.

I want to stop not asking for help.

I want to stop staying up so late binge watching TV or scrolling through my phone.

I want to stop going months on end without a night out with my husband (we’re going on a date tonight for the first time in over six months!) IMG-7109

I want to stop working seven days a week and being at everyone’s beckon call and instead set aside days where I’m offline and able to live in the moment.

I want to start prioritizing my health, my well-being, my marriage, my friendships, who I am outside of being a mom and a person with chronic illness, because while that’s a lot of me—it’s not all of me.

Finding the ‘Joie de vivre’

Let’s face it, this coronavirus nightmare isn’t ending anytime soon. Much like a chronic illness diagnosis—there is no end in sight. We all rise to that challenge day after day, and don’t think twice. I fear if I don’t start spending more time for myself, I may put my remission in jeopardy and that scares me, big time, because when you’re a mom and a wife, your flares impact a lot more than just you. IMG-5066 (1)

I look at this 37th year with a lot of hope and a lot of possibility. I’m eternally grateful for the life I have and the family and friends I have around me, near and far. Recognizing there’s a need for change is similar to the importance of being proactive in managing your illness and doing all the things you can to set yourself up for success—whether it’s seeing countless specialists for medical care and preventative screenings, taking medication, getting blood draws and scopes, etc.…I look at this form of self-care as just as important in managing my Crohn’s and giving myself the best shot of staying out of the hospital and flare-free. IMG-6382

Cheers to the next 365 days and beyond! Thank you for following my journey and for your support through the years. This blog is like one of my babies and being able to speak to you through it is one of the most cathartic aspects of my patient journey. If you’re feeling like you’re in a bit of a rut or a funk, remember self-care is not selfish. Now I just need to practice what I preach.

Why I refuse to mourn who I was prior to Crohn’s: A birthday reflection

This week, I turn 36-years-old. Birthdays are a time of reflection, celebration, and excitement. Last month marked 14 years since I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. A chronic illness that has shaped my adult years and my identity.

I recently saw a post on Instagram about imagining life prior to illness. IMG-8194Prior to the challenges and the hurt that coincide with having a disease that you expect to have until your dying day. It’s heavy and can be overwhelming. There’s no cure for IBD and once you are told you have it, your world and your life is forever altered.

When I see childhood photos of myself and think back on my wonderful memories with family and friends through my college years, that girl often feels foreign to me. There are a few things I wish I could whisper in her ear:

“Stop taking your health for granted.”

“Soak in this feeling of invincibility.”

“Make the most of every single day.” IMG-8201

“Enjoy how carefree it feels to never have to worry about what the next day will bring.”

“Soak in the comfort of never needing medication or going through painful pokes and prods.”

“Have more empathy for those around you who aren’t as lucky.”

the list goes on. Hindsight is 20/20. I can’t fault myself for floating through life the first 21 years. I’m glad I had no idea of what was to come. At the same time, I wouldn’t trade what the last 14 years have given me:

They’ve brought me debilitating pain that built my strength.

They’ve brought me sorrow that’s made the sunshine feel extra bright on my shoulders.

They’ve brought me fear that’s been replaced with resolve. 

They’ve brought me lonely moments that are now filled with the laughter of my little ones.

They’ve brought me years of feeling unlovable, but then finding magic with a man who never once shied away from my illness. image (66)

They’ve brought me extreme vulnerability that’s now coupled with gratitude. 

They’ve brought me scars internally and externally that I now see as battle wounds.

They’ve brought me years of embarrassment, that’s transformed to a scarlet letter that I wear with pride.

They’ve brought me feelings of worry that have been washed away by clarity and perspective.

On this birthday and moving forward, rather than mourn the loss of who I was up until age 21, I choose to celebrate who I’ve become the last 14 years. While this illness has tried time and time again to rob me of my joy, it’s provided me with evidence of my resilience. Since my diagnosis, I’ve worked full-time as a TV news anchor, reporter, and producer, I’ve gotten married, I’ve had two children in 21 months, and I’ve become a steadfast patient advocate. balls-1786430_1280Crohn’s has shown me that just because I get knocked down with a flare, doesn’t mean I can’t bounce back and be better. With Crohn’s, life often feels like you’re in the passenger seat and your fate is out of your hands. Rather than sit back passively, I choose to grab the wheel. Cheers to 36!