Count to Ten

January 9, 2025

I’m smack dab in the middle of a space that everyone with chronic illness/disability/chronic pain/disease (and all you I didn’t name - I see you) finds themselves.

It is the cavern of not knowing -when someone who knows I’m sick asks: “How are you?” I dread it and I’m grateful. Both are true at once. I know that they care and ask because they love me. But, yikes, it is an uncomfortable question.

People ask because we are interconnected. And that which lives and breathes in me speaks to and dances with that which lives and breathes in you. This connection leads, if we let it, to deep relationships of care, support, celebration, love. And I want all those things. And I work hard to get those things. And I hope for those things.

But, when the way those things are expressed is through questions about how I feel on any given day, it becomes overwhelming.

The truth of it is that I think about how I feel way to much just in my own heart and brain. I wonder what it will feel like when I get out of bed and try to decide if I should use my energy on a shower. I wonder what my pain level will be during the night as I prepare myself for sleep by lathering my legs with lidocane and CBD, taking Tylenol, hoping that at least one of these things will cut the twinges of deep pain that, on most nights, keep me awake. I wonder what it will feel like when I sit down or stand up or, let’s be honest, move at all. Or, gosh, just lay there.

But, too, wrapped up in my answer to the question of how I feel is the need to always guess: What will my answer tell you about my capacity to live, to work, to be a friend, to travel, to have dreams beyond my house?

I’m worried that you will see my answer to your question as a limitation when I see it as a reality that lives with all my other realities. I can work and work well. I can be a friend and support those I love. I can take on new adventures that I’ve not even dreamed of. I can travel, I can dream. I can add to my life. Whatever my answer is, it is a moment in my day. It does not define me nor will it limit me.

It is simply an answer, not a determination.

And, I’m always so grateful when people ask. Maybe you have asked. Thank you.

I have had some friends be creative. Some of them have their own illness. Some of them journey with their family or friends who have chronic concerns. They ask things like: How is your day today? Or, what is your pain level today? Or, how did you sleep? Or, what is it like for you today?

These questions are a relief of sorts. The truth is, if you ask me how I am I will always say “fine”. It is simple and easy but leaves neither one of us satisfied. The answer “fine” creates a divide. It is awkward. It makes both the asker and the one who answers stand in an uncomfortable space. Where do you go from “fine” if not to - “really?” or “ good”. But creative questions bring out a little more info: “Today has been a good day.” Or. “I’m really struggling today.” These answers feel safe because it is clear that the asker known what it is like to balance truth with being ok with that truth.

I’ve decided to create a “practice” for counting to ten when I want to answer the questions that come, and will be coming more, my way. My community is small and close and I will be seeing more and more people I know and love as we move towards the summer. It is time to get creative myself and figure out how to answer all the inevitable questions that will come my way, sometimes every day for weeks from the same person. I think maybe a count from 1-10 might be the answer.

I’ll get to work and then let you know when to check it out.

And, today is a good day. Thank you for asking.