Dear Diary,
There is something strange about living through the chapters you know you will eventually write about.
While you are in them, they do not feel inspirational.
They feel exhausting.
They feel unfair.
They feel like doctor appointments, insurance battles, medications, procedures, canceled plans, sleepless nights, unanswered questions, and trying to explain symptoms that nobody else can see.
They feel like learning medical terminology you never asked to know.
They feel like becoming an expert on a body you sometimes barely recognize.
And sometimes, they simply feel like survival.
But then I saw these words:
“One day, you’ll tell your story of everything you fought through…and someone else will feel less alone because you did.”
And I realized—that is exactly why The Dual Diagnosis Diaries exists.
💜 I Didn’t Choose This Story
I certainly didn’t wake up one morning and think:
“You know what would make life interesting? Two autoimmune diseases.”
Yet here we are.
Crohn’s Disease moved in first.
Years later, MG showed up like an uninvited roommate who apparently missed the memo that the spare bedroom was already occupied.
Neither one pays rent.
Both are demanding.
And somehow, I am responsible for managing the household.
Rude. 😂
But underneath the jokes is a reality that isn’t always funny.
There have been moments when I have been scared.
Moments when my body has done things I didn’t understand.
Moments when breathing became something I had to consciously think about.
Moments when exhaustion wasn’t something sleep could fix.
Moments when I knew something was wrong even when I couldn’t yet prove what it was.
Moments when I wondered how much more my body—and my spirit—could handle.
And yet, somehow, I kept going.
Not gracefully every day.
Not positively every day.
Sometimes I complained.
Sometimes I cried.
Sometimes I got angry.
Sometimes I laughed at completely inappropriate moments because humor was the only coping mechanism available.
But I kept going.
🌻 Maybe Survival Doesn’t Always Look Brave
I think we have romanticized resilience.
We imagine the strong person standing confidently after the storm, talking about everything they overcame.
But nobody talks enough about what resilience looks like during the storm.
Sometimes resilience is making another doctor’s appointment when you’re tired of doctors.
Sometimes it’s taking your medication when you’re frustrated that you need it.
Sometimes it’s advocating for yourself after you’ve already explained the same symptoms five times.
Sometimes it’s saying, “Something is wrong with my body,” even when someone else doesn’t seem convinced.
Sometimes it’s canceling plans.
Sometimes it’s asking for help.
And sometimes resilience is lying in bed thinking:
I cannot do this anymore.
…and getting up tomorrow and doing it anyway.
That counts too.
💜 Somewhere, Someone Is Living My Earlier Chapter
This might be the part that matters most to me.
Somewhere, someone has just heard the words Crohn’s Disease for the first time.
Someone else has just been diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis.
Someone is sitting in a parking lot after an appointment, Googling words they barely understand.
Someone knows something is wrong but doesn’t have a diagnosis yet.
Someone is frustrated because their symptoms aren’t being taken seriously.
Someone is grieving the version of themselves they used to know.
And someone may be wondering:
“Am I the only person going through this?”
I remember versions of those feelings.
That is why I write.
Not because I have figured everything out.
Trust me—I have not. 😂
I write because sometimes knowing another human being has walked through something similar makes the road feel a little less lonely.
Maybe they’ll find something I wrote at 2:00 in the morning while they’re searching for answers.
Maybe they’ll recognize themselves in one of my stories.
Maybe they’ll laugh at one of my ridiculous roommate moments when they desperately need something to laugh about.
Or maybe they’ll simply realize:
It isn’t just me.
And sometimes, that is enough.
🦋 Maybe My Story Doesn’t Have to Be Pretty to Have Purpose
There are parts of my journey I probably would have deleted if life came with an edit button.
Actually, I would have highlighted entire chapters and hit DELETE without a second thought. 😂
But those chapters shaped the person holding the pen today.
Maybe advocacy isn’t always standing behind a microphone.
Sometimes advocacy is simply telling the truth.
The uncomfortable truth.
The funny truth.
The embarrassing truth.
The “you really cannot make this stuff up” truth.
The truth about chronic illness, medical appointments, treatments, relationships, fear, joy, grief, laughter, exhaustion—and continuing to build a life while carrying all of it.
Because somewhere, somebody needs the version of the story that doesn’t end with:
“And then everything got better.”
Sometimes the more meaningful story is:
“Everything didn’t get better. But I learned how to keep living anyway.”
And maybe that story matters just as much.
🎵 Music Playing…
“I Lived” — OneRepublic
Because this journey isn’t simply about what I survived.
It’s about the fact that through the diagnoses, treatments, fear, laughter, unexpected detours, and two very disrespectful autoimmune roommates…
I lived.
And I am still living.
💭 Reflection Corner
Maybe everything I’ve fought through wasn’t meant to stay hidden inside me.
Maybe some of those experiences became words so another person could find them at exactly the moment they needed them.
I can’t change the chapters I’ve already lived.
I can’t promise what the next ones will look like.
But I can keep telling the truth about them.
And if one person reads something I’ve written and thinks,
“Oh my God. Someone else gets it.”
then sharing my story mattered.
Maybe that is what it means for our stories to become someone else’s survival guide.
Not that we have all the answers.
Not that we made it through completely untouched.
Not that we discovered some magical secret to being strong.
But that we leave little markers along the road saying:
“I was here too. Keep going.”
Because sometimes we don’t tell our stories because we’ve completely healed from them.
Sometimes we tell them so the person still standing in the middle of theirs knows they aren’t standing there alone.
🌻 Your Turn
Has someone else’s story ever helped you through a difficult season?
Or have you discovered that something you once struggled through eventually became the very experience that allowed you to help someone else?
Sometimes our hardest chapters become someone else’s reminder to keep turning the page.
💜 Until the next entry…
I’ll keep telling the truth about the hard days, laughing whenever I can, advocating when I must, and learning how to live a full life with two autoimmune roommates who apparently have no plans to move out.
Because my story isn’t finished.
And somewhere along the way, maybe one of my chapters will become the words someone else needed to keep going.
One story. One connection. One less person feeling alone.
With love, strength, a little sarcasm, and plenty of purple, 💜
Kia Lorice
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries
💜🌻
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