For the first time since being diagnosed, I am feeling less like a burden that's labeled with diagnoses and filled with prescription drugs, aches and pains. For so long I was the patient; the last thing I want is to be treated as a patient by my own friends and family.

My family is outstanding, always knowing how to encourage me rather than enable me. However, recommendations upon recommendations on what would "make me better" aggravate me time and time again. They mean well.

When I first mention my diagnoses to someone, I am generally bombarded with questions. Although you may be avidly trying to help me, there's truly no one singular route to a healthier me. What helps me one day, may cause regression the next. Trust me when I say I know my boundaries, and know when my energy levels are high enough for me to try something new.

"Have you worked out lately?"
"You should try yoga!!"
"How's your diet looking?"
"It's just in your head..."

If you know me well, NO I have not worked out lately. I have not tried yoga. My diet varies, but I get by on what doesn't aggravate me. Yes, my diagnoses are psychosomatic- meaning they're derived from the brain/nervous system- but the nervous system controls my entire body.

There's love and gentleness in the comments and questions by those that know and love me.

"Have you ate all your meals so far today?"
"Have you tried your essential oils migraine stick?"
"You're allowed to take a nap, you can get back to your work afterwards. Let your mind rest."
"Are you okay? You're starting to seem out of it."
"Have you taken all your pills today?"
"I saw this idea and thought of you, maybe it's worth a shot!"

I take care of myself, indeed, but I am extremely forgetful when my pain clouds my brain. Those closest to me notice changes in my awareness, body language, mood, and stability. A simple reminder might be all I need to attend to my additional pain.

Words mean a lot, but actions say more than words ever could.

When someone helps me put my shoes on or take them off, because my knees shake terribly. When someone gets me a glass of water while I assemble my pills. When someone calls me simply to share good news or ask me how I'm doing. When someone holds the door open for me. When someone offers their jacket to me, because my body is sending cold chills down my spine. When someone offers me a snack, because I look like I am about to pass out. When someone simply asks me how I am or shines a smile at me.

All these words and actions show love and care.

Invisible illnesses, such as chronic pain and mental illness (in which I suffer from), don't assure cures or continuous good days. The people I choose to surround myself with assure me that I will never be alone in these once-isolating battles. No matter how good or bad of a day I am having, my friends will remain patient. Because that's what we do for those that we love, we remain patient through the good and bad.

I don't have standards or expectations, simply be present in my life. Show me you care, you're willing to be patient, and still love me.

Thank you for loving me, through the good and the bad, and know that your mere presence is more than enough.