Rubberband…

Perspective with chronic illness is…let’s just say, flexible in all the wrong ways.

Last week? Absolute chaos. A flare so aggressive it felt like my body woke up and chose violence. Enter: steroids—the overachieving frenemy. They did their job and calmed things down, but at the small cost of sleep, sanity, and any hope of a normal circadian rhythm. Who needs rest when you can reorganize your entire life at 3 a.m.?

This week, though? A plot twist. I had energy. Not “run a marathon” energy, but definitely “function like a semi-responsible adult” energy. The swelling backed off enough to be less imposing, the pain became manageable, and I got things done. I set up my outdoor space, organized, cleaned—honestly, I was on a roll.

I did have to take a few dizziness-and-nausea intermissions, but I didn’t fall or toss my cookies, which at this point feels like a win worth mentioning.

And then today happened.

Low energy. Hard stop. No warning, no negotiation—just my body pulling the emergency brake like, “That was cute. Let’s not get carried away.”

Part of me is frustrated I didn’t finish everything I had planned. The other part knows that what I did accomplish is actually kind of impressive, given the circumstances. Both things are true, which is rude, frankly.

Some days I feel like a rubber band—stretched too far, snapping in every direction, never quite landing back where I started. And yeah, I worry this might be my new normal.

But if this is the normal, I guess I’m learning how to live in the stretch…with better snacks and slightly lower expectations.

How do you deal with the up and down moments? Drop a comment and let’s discuss!