Dear Life,
I am writing to formally request removal from the “What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger” program.
I appreciate the opportunity for growth. Truly, I do.
However, I believe I have successfully completed all required coursework, passed all examinations, completed the extra credit assignments, and served enough time in what can only be described as the University of Hard Knocks.
As I lay here arguing with my old friend Insomnia and writing this entry, “Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You)” by Kelly Clarkson keeps playing in my head. Ironically, at this stage of life, I would like to respectfully inform Kelly that I am, in fact, strong enough. We can retire the anthem now. In fact, I’d like to replace it with something called Peaceful, Well-Rested, and Financially Blessed. 😂
I would argue that I have earned not only a diploma, but an honorary doctorate.
Frankly, I graduated years ago.
Respectfully, I am done.
For years, life has apparently looked at me and said, “Oh, she can handle it. Let’s give her one more thing.”
Another diagnosis.
Another challenge.
Another loss.
Another lesson.
And that, my friends, has apparently been my first mistake.
Because somewhere along the way, being “strong” became my entire personality.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot that strong people deserve rest, too.
Need someone to hold it together during a crisis? Call Kia.
Need someone to keep working while simultaneously fighting for her life? Call Kia.
Need someone to carry everyone else’s burdens while quietly carrying her own? Call Kia.
At this point, I would like to speak to management.
Because I never signed up for the lifetime subscription package.
I have spent over two decades negotiating with Crohn’s Disease—a negotiation in which Crohn’s rarely compromises.
I now also share my life with Myasthenia Gravis, an equally stubborn and uninvited roommate who apparently plans on staying indefinitely.
And because life apparently felt my schedule wasn’t full enough, for shits (literally) and giggles, I somehow found myself inducted into Club Menopause. I don’t remember applying for membership, nor do I recall agreeing to the initiation process, but here we are.
Along the way, I have endured countless procedures, tests, infusions, medications, hospital visits, insurance battles, and enough doctor’s appointments to qualify for honorary staff privileges.
Honestly, at this point, I feel like I should at least be eligible for employee benefits and a reserved parking space.
“Reserved for Kia: Frequent Flyer of the Medical System.”
I have navigated family challenges, career stress, financial worries, and enough emotional plot twists to rival an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy.
Actually, scratch that.
Grey’s Anatomy writers would probably look at my life and say, “Okay, that’s a bit unrealistic.”
And yet, here we are.
The truth is, I am tired.
Not defeated.
Not giving up.
Just tired.
There is a difference.
I don’t need any more lessons disguised as suffering.
At this point, I have enough continuing education credits to last several lifetimes.
I don’t need another character-building exercise.
My character is fully developed.
At this point, my character has been developed, revised, edited, peer-reviewed, published, and should probably qualify for tenure.
I believe I have accumulated enough resilience points for several lifetimes. I’d now like to redeem them for peace, stability, and a winning lottery ticket.
I am ready for the next chapter.
The chapter called:
Peace.
Ease.
Joy.
Rest.
Abundance.
Softness.
I am ready for a season where I don’t have to earn every good thing through pain.
I am ready for blessings that arrive looking like blessings instead of traumatic life experiences with inspirational quotes attached to them.
I would like random checks deposited into my account without accompanying personal crises.
I would like surprise vacations instead of surprise diagnoses.
I would like my nervous system to stop behaving like it works for Homeland Security.
I would like to go to sleep without wondering what symptom is going to audition for a starring role tomorrow.
And while we’re negotiating, I’d also like eight uninterrupted hours of sleep and for my body to stop acting like a temperamental toddler who skipped nap time.
Is that too much to ask?
Probably.
But a girl can dream.
So, Life, if you’re listening, please accept this letter as my official request to transfer into the “Peace, Ease, Good Things, and Unexpected Blessings” program effective immediately.
I believe I have more than earned it.
And if peace could hurry up and process my application, I would greatly appreciate it. 😂
Sincerely,
A very tired, highly qualified, overachieving graduate from the School of Life. 😂💜
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Thank you for taking the time to read this entry from The Dual Diagnosis Diaries. Whether you are navigating chronic illness, caregiving, grief, or simply the ups and downs of life, I hope you leave here knowing you are not alone. Until next time, take care of yourselves and extend yourselves the same grace you so freely give to others.
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach,
Kia Lorice
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries 💜
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