The first few years after I got sick, people would tell me how I was so "strong" and so "brave".
Well, I don't think the word brave applies to illness. Brave is something that you don't have to do, but you do it to help someone else. Like pull a child out of a burning building. That is brave. I don't have a choice to be sick. I am not brave, I am surviving.
Second, I think I am losing my strength. I am just so tired and have so much pain I just can't seem to care about much. It is so much harder to put on my happy face and pretend everything is okay.
I think it is like one of those houses built on stilts. The hurricane comes and the waves pound at it, and the stilts and support beams get weaker and weaker. Then all it takes in one tiny little raindrop in the right spot to hit the house and the whole thing comes crashing down.
Perhaps the stupid never ending sinus infections are my raindrop?
wishing you strength and bravery,