I have several rare conditions that have converged to make my life different from what I ever imagined it would be. I was an educator for twenty-five years, until my illnesses made it impossible for me to continue teaching. At about the same time, my younger daughter left for college. I realized I had a choice about how I was going to live. I could fall into the abyss of my chronic pain and illness or choose to live a life of joy and hope. I don’t mean false positivity or forced happiness. To me, joy and happiness are distinct concepts. Happiness can be a component of joy, but joy is different from happiness. Happiness requires that other emotions not be present or acknowledged, but joy holds both sorrow and happiness. It holds loss with both regret and gratefulness for the gift that was and the gift that is. Hope is knowing that the human spirit can grow and flourish no matter the circumstances. It’s knowing and sharing the uncensored version of ourselves: the pain, the suffering, the beauty, and the joy, and realizing they are all part of our story held in the treasure chests of our hearts.

LACI, Life-Altering Chronic Illness, is an accidental confluence of genes, environment, and a damaged immune system, but it has been the catalyst for my intentional transformation. After my diagnoses, I began to mine my life for experiences that have taught me how to have hope and resilience. Just thinking positively wasn’t going to work. Chronic illness can act like a cloak over the costumes we already wear or serve as a channel toward transformation. It thrusts us into reckoning with what we must face in ourselves so we can live into a new life. We have to know who we are beyond our roles and our suffering. Understanding our faults and gifts helps us respond intentionally rather than react to our circumstances. This leads to a deeper connection with others and to self-compassion. I honor my progress and take life as it is. I don’t think my disease was sent to me by some mystical force to teach me something, but I do believe it offers lessons.

Living well is not about prosperity, health, or good fortune, although those things make our earthly journey a little easier. For me, living well is living in such a way that the intangible becomes palpable. The ordinary and heartbreaking are sacred, and joy breaks through my pain. It’s a daily choice that requires a lot of practice, and sometimes I just can’t get there. I would like to share what I have learned, continue to find ways to nurture my mind, body, and spirit, and listen to your stories. Together, we can support each other on our journeys to navigate the challenges of living with a chronic condition.

All the best,

Michelle Freret Prather