Chronic Illness & Grief - The Boulder Analogy

As you'll likely be only too aware if you live with a chronic illness, there can be a lot of grief that comes with falling ill. It can be hard to explain to anyone unfamiliar with this experience the pain of your own body letting you down, and the frustration of being torn away from the life you knew.

The other day, while crying and rambling to my mother about how sick I am of being sick, I managed to accidentally come up with an analogy that works surprisingly well at explaining the grief I feel over my illness. This is entirely based on my own experiences, and I want to make it clear this is only an analogy for the feelings of loss that suddenly becoming ill can cause - I am not attempting to say being ill means you can never enjoy life again, or anything along those lines. This is just my way of explaining my own feelings of loss and frustration.

Imagine you live in a nice little village. It's not perfect, but it's your home and you like it well enough. Most of your life exists inside this village and, for some reason, (suspend your disbelief a little for this analogy please) your hobbies and interests and the things you enjoy are, for the most part, illegal outside of your village. One day you travel outside of your village - just to do some errands, nothing special - and on the way back home you discover there's a giant boulder blocking the road. The road itself is a mountain pass, with smooth rock faces going up into the sky on either side of where the boulder is. There is no other way into the village besides this road. You're stuck. 

You try to push the boulder out of the way, but you fall back and injure yourself. You try to climb the boulder, but it's impossible; and as you climb, it somehow grows bigger. You try everything you can think of to move it or get past it, but nothing works.

People passing you by on this road move right through the boulder, and ask why you're not doing the same. You explain to them that you've tried, but you can't. They ask if you've really tried, because they're not having any problems. Some of them even deny the existence of the boulder altogether and accuse you of lying about it. They watch you get knocked back as you attempt to move the boulder or even try and hurl yourself over it, but still they insist you must be making it up because they aren't struggling at all.

You have no choice but to live your life on this side of the boulder now. You realise how bright and colourful and sunny your village was, and you wish you'd appreciated it more while you had the chance. Everything outside of the village is so bleak and grey in comparison.

Despite the fact that the things you enjoy doing the most are illegal, you do occasionally get to enjoy them for short periods of time; albeit in secret, constantly having to be careful you don't get caught. If you're caught, you'll be put in jail for any amount of time from several days to many months. You find new activities which help pass the time - some of them even turn out to be pretty fun. Yet you still can't help but miss your old life in your village.

It gets frustrating watching other people able to go into your village with ease, at any time they like. You sometimes wonder if you did something to deserve being locked out, or if you haven't tried hard enough to move past the boulder. Yet any time you try again to get back into your village it's the same results. People offer to lend an ear while you talk about how hard it is being trapped behind this boulder - and, while you appreciate the support, all you really want is for the boulder to move.

Things won't necessarily always be so bleak on this side of the boulder. You'll get a new house, discover new ways to pass the time - and the things that bring you joy may eventually become legalised. Over time the boulder may even start to shrink, giving you a glimpse of your old life. But it won't be an easy adjustment, and you're not entirely convinced that anything will take away the sting of that boulder.

Chronic illness is like an immovable boulder, separating you from your own life and, by extension, ofter your own identity. Any time you push too hard against your body and your illness, you risk making yourself even worse. People don't even always believe you're ill, despite how much you have to give up because of your illness.

A lot of the time you're punished with worsening symptoms when you try and do the things you used to enjoy - like reading, writing, exercise, etc. And though you can sometimes do them for short amounts of time, you have to constantly be careful not to overdo it and get caught out.

Over time you'll build a new life. You'll find other things you enjoy doing, or you may even be able to once again do a little more of the things you used to enjoy. You'll adjust, find coping strategies, discover new things you never expected to like and find different ways to enjoy life. Life moves on, and we have no choice but to accept our own reality. But I know I've found that no amount of time or emotional processing has made me ok with the fact that all I really want is to have my health back.