As I recover from CIRS, I finally have the space in my head to confront everything I’ve been through with this illness. I always knew there would come a time when I’d have to lean into those feelings and process the grief and loss; to accept the years wasted and the dreams that were taken from me.
I expected it would be difficult to let go of the memories from 14 years of illness that continue to haunt me, and to cope with the abandonment by nearly everyone I knew in a time when I needed them the most.
But one element that caught me off guard was the need to come to terms with a label I have avoided claiming for too long: disabled.
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