How Crohn’s Disease Cracked My Heart

The Crohn’s Disease journey is hard, to say the least.  And if you have Ulcerative Colitis or any form of Inflammatory Bowel Disease, I know you understand what I mean.

Chronic Illness is not for the faint of heart.  It is exhausting physically and mentally, and I would say it debilitates both, equally. 

They don’t call us warriors for nothing.  Every day is a fight.  Every day we deal with something.  

Before my diagnosis I was mentally head strong.  I could always control my emotions well. And I disliked people to see me cry, because ignorantly, I saw that as a sign of weakness. 

It was important to me to always be the strong one.  The girl people could count on.  Well… that didn’t last very long, for God had other plans for me.

I have to admit, I was kind of heartless before my diagnosis; in the sense that I never liked to show emotion.  And whenever someone would show emotion I sort of shut down. 

I was the type to think that, goodness, if I could control my emotions why can’t they?  I’ve been through a lot too, ya know, and here I am keeping it together.    

Well!  In came my Crohn’s diagnosis, and things changed drastically for me.  It took about 7 years of horrific struggle with the disease, dealing with daily pain and debilitating symptoms, until it cracked me wide open with intense force. 

And boy did that crack let the light in. 

My heart broke open and my tough shell disintegrated.  Now, I feel.   

I really feel.   

I feel pain, and struggle, and love.  It gets inside of me in a way it never did before, because before I would never allow it in.  I would stiff-arm it and push it out at all costs. 

But now I am cracked open.  I am vulnerable, and this vulnerability has made me feel more alive than ever.

My cracked heart empathizes with the sick on a level I never did before. 

I hurt with the hurting.  And I often cry, openly and unapologetically. 

I cry for anything now.  It could be a movie that tugs at my emotions.  A conversation with a loved one.  An observation of someone injured.  I cry.  And I cry hard.

My emotions bubble up and overflow with continuous momentum.  Never stopping, just as crashing waves caress the sea shore over, and over, and over again. 

As the water—big, grand and puffed with bubbling foam, I am engorged with feelings. 

All the feelings.    

And I am thankful.  Because it shows that I am alive.  It shows my strength.  It shows that I have lived.

When a baby is first born, the sign of life is their unapologetic cry—loud, ugly crying.  A newborn who doesn’t cry at birth is an immediate concern of something gone horribly wrong, perhaps the presence of death.

So I encourage you to cry.  I encourage you to feel.  Because it is through these vulnerable emotions that we experience life, alive. 

Not asleep, or half-dead, but alive. 

Awake. 

Eyes engaged.  Heart, cracked open.

Comment below if you can relate.  I love hearing from you.

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