"i can't, i'm (still) sick"

January 17, 2026

Most people I meet now don’t know I'm sick.  It’s not the first thing I tell people anymore.  It’s not written on my sleeves. 

I’m better.  But I’m not healed. 

And the fear 16-year-old me held still lives in my mind daily. 

That fear still dictates my decision.

“Hey, do you want to?”

I can’t.  I’m too sick. 

“You’re sick?”

Oh yeah.  You can’t tell?

“No.”

Right.  I forgot.  I’m better now. 

When will that be enough?

Last week, I got my 6th concussion. 

Thought we were past that, huh?

Apparently not. 

And as soon as it happened, I was reminded of my limits. 

Reminded of my sickness.  

Reminded that it is my dictator. 

And the fear that comes with it. 

I'm a risk taker.  It’s in my bones.  

When I'm told I can't do something, I do it just to prove you wrong.

I'll walk into danger just to show I can do it. 

But when asked, “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

I realized I had no good answer. 

Because even though mentally, I love the thrill,

physically, I can’t take the punishment. 

So though I risk, I always hold resistance. 

I go far, but not far enough. 

I’m held back. 

For better or for worse. 

All I wanted was to learn to snowboard. 

I'm pretty athletic and pick up on things easily, so I figured that since I can skateboard and ripstik, snowboarding would be second nature. 

Turns out it's not as easy as I thought.  And I fell a lot. 

On my second day there, I fell back, and my head caught my fall.  It was only my second time down the hill. 

In that moment, I knew I was done. 

And thought, maybe I shouldn’t have put myself in this position in the first place. 

And my risk-taking has come to a halt for a while.

“Do you want to go on this mission trip?”

No, I can’t. 

“Why not?”

Because I'm…

Well, I guess I can. 

I guess I am living day to day like I have a healthy body. 

So my illness is no excuse. 

So I guess I can. 

But inside me lies my 16-year-old self. 

In bed. Dying. 

Saying no.  You can’t.  You can’t risk it. 

So I don’t.  So I stay here. 

And people wonder why.  And I no longer wear my illness on my sleeves. It’s no longer obvious.

So no one knows. 

And I no longer have the willpower to explain. 

So I’m a fraud. 

A wanna be risk taker. 

Wanna be fearless. 

But when the opportunity arises, I see 16-year-old me in my head, and I back down. 

And I’m not sure if I will ever get over that. 

I don’t want to have to wear my illness on my sleeve.  I don’t want it to be the first thing I have to tell people.

But, I still want people to know.

I want people to see that when I say no, it’s not because I’m weak or don’t care.

It’s because I can’t.  Even though I am healthier than I was 5 years ago, I still can’t do it all.

And that’s okay.  I have accepted it.

But I want others to, too.

I want them to know I am doing my best with the cards I have left in my hands.

And being sick has taught me to look at everyone that way, too.

Everyone has something.  No one is “okay.”

We live in a broken world.  The struggle is inevitable.

So we should give everyone the same grace we hope to receive.

Give everyone the understanding we wish others gave us.  

So when someone says they can’t, believe them.

Believe that if they could, they would.

I sure would.

January 29, 2026

Pain.

Chronic pain is a weird concept.  

Because it’s not a feeling.  And it’s often not circumstantial.

It just is.

All the time. 

And constant physical pain really has a way of messing up a person.

Pain.

“Do you think you have a lower pain tolerance than everyone else, or experience more pain than everyone else?”

Well, what's a normal amount of pain?

“None.”

Oh.

A normal person would have gotten checked out sooner.

A normal person would have realized new pain… because their pain scale starts at zero.

A normal person notices when new pain arises because they aren’t chronically in pain. 

Am I healing, or am I just tolerating pain better?

February 6, 2026

I love Jesus, but sometimes pain makes me resent Him. 

Because why would He let this happen?

Why won’t He heal me?

I find it ironic that no matter how much suffering I endure, 

it doesn’t make me doubt God’s existence,

it just makes me doubt that He is here for me.

I have the faith to know that He has a reason for all of this…

But that doesn’t comfort me when I’m lying on the bathroom floor crying. 

Even if I knew the specific reason, I don’t think it would comfort me. 

I want simply knowing God is here and working to be enough for me. 

Remind Me You’re Here by Jason Gray 

And I won't ask You for reasons

'Cause a reason can't wipe away tears

No, I don't need all the answers

Just be here beside me

Father, remind me You're here

But what about when I can’t feel Him here?

I know feelings aren’t facts, and that whether I feel Him or not, He is still here. 

But how can the knowledge of Him being here comfort me when I can't feel it too? 

What then?

What now?

February 13, 2026

I don’t have an answer.  

I don’t know what to do in the waiting… in the in between…

other than push through it.

And know that God is here (somewhere), even when I can’t feel Him.

I don’t understand what He is doing, 

but I also know I’m not always meant to.

I know one day it will all make sense,

even if it's not on this side of Heaven. 

So I will trust Him, even if it means resenting Him for it. 

Because He is here, working, whether I like it or not.

That’s one thing I can never doubt.