“I wish I could tell my younger self what was coming… but I also wish I could protect her from ever having to know.”
💭 When Friday Nights Were My Biggest Problem
I’m not saying I want to go back to my 20s.
Okay… maybe I’d take the metabolism, the knees that didn’t sound like microwave popcorn every time I stood up, and the ability to stay awake all night without needing three business days to recover.
But the rest?
I’ll pass.
Still…
I miss the version of me whose biggest problem was figuring out what to wear on Friday night.
Back then, my biggest dilemma was whether the outfit matched the shoes—not whether one medication would interact with another or whether I remembered to refill a prescription before the weekend.
Earlier today, while organizing medications for the week, I caught myself thinking about the woman who used to keep nothing more than lip gloss and her car keys in her purse.
Now my purse could double as a traveling pharmacy.
As I looked over my calendar, it hit me.
Nearly every open space was filled with something medical—an infusion, a follow-up appointment, lab work, or another specialist.
Somewhere between then and now, life quietly stopped revolving around Friday night plans and started revolving around appointments.
That’s when I found myself thinking about her.
The young woman who had no idea what life had waiting around the corner.
🎵 The Soundtrack in My Head
As I sit here writing this diary entry, “Glory Days” by Bruce Springsteen keeps drifting through my mind.
Not because I want to relive the past…
But because sometimes I catch myself missing the simplicity of it.
Back then, I measured time by birthdays, vacations, and Friday nights.
Now I measure it by infusion cycles, medication schedules, and whether today is a “good breathing day.”
That realization can sting.
💜 She Didn’t Know
She had no idea what a neurologist was.
Or a gastroenterologist.
Or a pulmonologist.
Or an ENT.
These days, if someone asks who my primary care physician is, my first response is usually,
“Which one?” 😂
She had no idea that one day she’d have so many specialists that introducing herself at a new doctor’s office would feel like reading the credits at the end of a movie.
She didn’t organize her calendar around infusions, lab work, CT scans, MRIs, sleep studies, pulmonary function tests, procedures, and insurance prior authorizations.
She certainly wasn’t collecting hospital wristbands like they were souvenirs from places she never wanted to visit.
Honestly…
I liked collecting concert tickets a whole lot better.
🌧️ Grieving the Woman I Used to Be
There are days when I grieve the woman I used to be.
Not because she was stronger.
She wasn’t.
She was simply unaware.
She had no idea what life was preparing her for.
No idea that one day she’d be living with Crohn’s disease, MuSK-positive Myasthenia Gravis, sleep apnea, oxygen tubing, and a medical vocabulary she never asked to learn.
She also had no idea how resilient she would become.
🌱 The Woman She Became
Because here’s what twenty-something me didn’t know…
Forty-nine-year-old me has learned how to sleep in hospital beds.
How to pack for an overnight hospital stay faster than I pack for a vacation.
How to smile while a nurse apologizes for having to stick me “just one more time.”
None of those were skills I ever wanted to master.
I’ve survived emergency room visits.
Hospital admissions.
Infusions.
Procedures.
Surgeries.
Sleepless nights.
Moments of fear.
Moments of uncertainty.
Moments when taking the next breath felt harder than anyone around me realized.
And yet…
Here I am.
💜 Somehow…
Somewhere along the way…
The woman who worried about shoes became the woman who worries about medication side effects, insurance approvals, infusion schedules, and oxygen levels.
Somehow, she became far more medicated…
Yet she never completely lost her optimism.
Not because every day is easy.
But because hope has become just as necessary as every medication I take.
Would I trade my Rolodex full of doctors for the carefree worries of my twenties?
Without hesitation.
Would I trade away everything these last two decades have taught me?
Not a chance.
Because somewhere between the diagnoses and the disappointments…
Between the medications and the medical bracelets…
Between the tears and the laughter…
I met a version of myself that twenty-year-old Kia had never imagined.
She’s more compassionate.
More patient.
More grateful.
More intentional.
She celebrates things she once took for granted.
A good night’s sleep.
A day without pain.
A meal that doesn’t trigger symptoms.
A walk without stopping to catch her breath.
Those aren’t little things anymore.
They’re victories.
🌻 Looking Back Without Living There
So yes…
Sometimes I miss her.
The carefree young woman who thought her biggest challenge was deciding what to wear on a Friday night.
The woman who had never heard the words autoimmune disease.
The woman who thought hospitals were places you visited other people.
The woman who had no idea how much life could change.
But I’m incredibly proud of the woman she became.
She may carry a pharmacy in her purse.
Keep a calendar full of specialists.
Need to know which hospital has her records.
And own enough hospital wristbands to start the world’s least exciting scrapbook.
But she also carries a strength her younger self never had the opportunity to discover.
Because if twenty-something Kia met me today, I think she’d be overwhelmed at first.
She’d wonder how life became so complicated.
She’d probably cry over everything I’ve had to endure.
But after she watched me keep getting back up…
After she saw me continue to laugh…
Continue to travel…
Continue to love my family…
Continue to advocate…
Continue building The Dual Diagnosis Diaries…
Continue finding joy between the appointments…
I think she’d smile.
And I think she’d be proud.
After all…
Without her…
There would never have been me.
💜 Today’s Reflection
It’s okay to miss the person you used to be.
Just don’t let nostalgia make you forget the person you’ve fought so hard to become.
Sometimes life doesn’t make us stronger because we wanted it to.
Sometimes it simply gives us no other choice.
And maybe that’s the greatest irony of all.
The young woman who worried about nothing more than what to wear on Friday night somehow became the forty-nine-year-old woman with a Rolodex full of doctors, a pharmacy in her purse, and enough hospital wristbands to fill a scrapbook.
She may be less carefree.
She may be far more medicated.
But she’s also stronger.
Wiser.
More resilient.
And far more hopeful than she realizes.
I think…
She’d make her younger self incredibly proud.
💜 About The Dual Diagnosis Diaries | Kia’s Journey
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries | Kia’s Journey is where I share the moments between the diagnoses—the lessons, the laughter, the heartbreak, the family, the faith, and the resilience that make me who I am. These stories aren’t just about chronic illness. They’re about living a meaningful life in spite of it.
With hope, honesty, and humor,
Kia Lorice
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
💜 Please consider liking, subscribing, and sharing this diary entry.
Leave a Reply