The Dual Diagnosis Diaries | Kia’s Journey: 🌻 Dear Body, I’m Learning to Give You Grace

Dear Diary,

I am really good at giving grace to other people.

Me?

Apparently, I missed that part of the assignment. 😂

I will tell someone else to rest. I’ll remind them that they don’t have to accomplish everything today. I’ll tell them to listen to their body, give themselves grace, and stop feeling guilty for needing a break.

Then my own body says, “Kia, we need to sit down.”

And suddenly I’m negotiating like we’re in a hostage situation.

Five more minutes.
One more thing.
Let me finish this first.

Because somewhere along the way, I learned how to be compassionate toward everyone except the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

💜 My Body and I Have a Complicated Relationship

There are days when I am frustrated with my body.

Days when I think about everything I want to do, everything I used to be able to do, and everything my mind is completely prepared to do—but my body has other plans.

And if you live with chronic illness, you know exactly how disrespectful that can feel.

My brain wakes up with an itinerary.

My body wakes up with a cancellation policy. 😂

Crohn’s might decide we need immediate access to a bathroom.

MG might decide my muscles have reached their daily limit before I have reached mine.

Fatigue may show up without an invitation.

And sometimes breathing, walking, talking, eating, getting dressed, or simply staying awake requires more energy than anyone looking at me would ever realize.

My first reaction is often frustration.

Why can’t you just cooperate?

But lately, I’ve been trying to ask myself a different question:

Why am I angry at the body that is still fighting so hard to keep me here?

🌻 The Body That Carried Me Through

This body has been through some things.

It has endured illness, procedures, medications, treatments, pain, exhaustion, hospital visits, uncertainty, fear, and more medical appointments than any person should reasonably have to put on a calendar.

It has had days when breathing became work.

Days when muscles refused to cooperate.

Days when my digestive system apparently decided peace was overrated.

Days when simply getting through the day was the accomplishment.

And somehow, this body kept carrying me.

Not perfectly.

Not without scars.

Not without needing help.

Not without occasionally filing a formal complaint against management. 😂

But it carried me.

And maybe that deserves more credit than I’ve been giving it.

Maybe I need to stop measuring my body only by what it can no longer do and start acknowledging everything it has already survived.

Maybe my body was never failing me. Maybe it was doing everything it could to carry me through.

💭 Some Days, I Couldn’t Do More

This one is hard for me.

I am a doer.

I like being productive. I like taking care of things. I like showing up for the people I love. And I like knowing that if something needs to get done, I can handle it.

So when my body forces me to slow down, guilt has a way of showing up too.

I start thinking about what I should have accomplished.

What I could have finished.

What everyone else seems capable of doing.

But I’m beginning to understand something:

Maybe those days weren’t failures.

Maybe I simply didn’t have anything else to give.

There is a difference.

Resting because my body has reached its limit isn’t laziness.

And pushing myself until there is absolutely nothing left isn’t proof that I am strong.

Sometimes strength is recognizing the limit before my body has to scream it at me.

💜 The Kindness I Give Everyone Else

Here’s the part that really gets me.

If someone I loved were struggling physically, I would never look at them and say:

Why are you tired again?

You rested yesterday.

You should have done more.

Other people can handle this.

Yet somehow, versions of those thoughts have found their way into the conversations I have with myself.

Why?

Why should everyone else receive compassion from me while I receive criticism?

I would never require someone I love to prove they were struggling enough before I allowed them to rest.

So why have I been requiring that proof from myself?

If I believe the people I love deserve patience on their difficult days, then I have to believe I deserve it too.

I cannot keep giving everyone else kindness and leaving none for myself.

🦋 Surviving Counts, Too

We celebrate accomplishments.

Promotions. Degrees. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Milestones.

The big things that photograph well and look good in social media posts.

But there are other milestones nobody sees.

The appointment you were terrified to attend.

The treatment you endured.

The flare you survived.

The morning you got out of bed when your body begged you not to.

The moment you realized your life had changed—and somehow figured out how to keep living it anyway.

There have been days when I genuinely didn’t know how I was going to get through.

And yet…

I did.

Maybe not gracefully.

Definitely not quietly. 😂

Probably with snacks.

Possibly with a few choice words.

But I am still here.

And there is something powerful about stopping long enough to recognize that.

Look how far I’ve already come.

🌻 Dear Body…

I owe you an apology.

I’ve spent so much time being angry at you for what illness took from us that I forgot something important:

You were going through it too.

I blamed you for the exhaustion.

I blamed you when my muscles wouldn’t cooperate.

I blamed you when plans had to change.

I blamed you when I couldn’t keep up with the version of myself I remembered.

And sometimes, I treated you like the enemy when, really, you were fighting the same battle I was.

So I am sorry.

For every time I called you weak when you were actually exhausted.

For every time I became frustrated because you needed rest.

For every time I compared you to the body I had before illness changed things.

For every time I pushed you because I was afraid slowing down meant giving up.

For every time I focused on what you couldn’t do instead of everything you were fighting to do.

I’m learning.

I’m learning that you aren’t my enemy.

Crohn’s may be one of my roommates.

MG may be the other.

And yes, both of them regularly violate the terms of their lease. At this point, eviction proceedings would be greatly appreciated. 😂

But you, my body, are not the disease.

You are the home carrying me through it.

And I think I’ve spent far too much time blaming the house for the damage caused by the storm.

You didn’t ask for Crohn’s.

You didn’t ask for MG.

Neither did I.

We’re just out here trying to survive these roommates together.

So maybe instead of constantly asking you to prove how strong you are, I need to start taking better care of the home that has protected me through every storm.

Maybe being gentle with you isn’t surrender.

Maybe it’s gratitude.

🎵 Music Playing…

“I Am Light” — India.Arie

Because I am learning that I am more than what has happened to my body, more than what illness has taken from me, and more than the things my body can or cannot do on any given day.

💭 Reflection Corner

I used to think giving myself grace meant lowering my expectations.

Now I understand it differently.

Grace isn’t giving up.

Grace is acknowledging reality without punishing myself for it.

It is understanding that some days I will conquer the world.

Some days I will conquer the laundry.

And some days I will look at the laundry and say, “We will revisit this matter at a later date.” 😂

All three versions of me are worthy.

All three are trying.

And all three deserve kindness.

So, dear body, I am going to try something different.

I am going to listen sooner.

Rest without putting myself on trial.

Celebrate what we can do.

Forgive us for what we can’t.

And stop treating every limitation like a personal failure.

Because there will be more difficult days. I know that.

But when they come, I want to remember something I haven’t always been very good at remembering:

We have survived days we once thought we couldn’t.

And look how far we’ve already come. 💜🌻

🌻 Your Turn

Have you ever realized you were giving everyone around you more grace than you were giving yourself?

What would change if you spoke to yourself with the same kindness you so freely give to the people you love?

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💜 Until next time, remember:

Your body doesn’t have to prove how strong it is before you decide to be gentle with it.

You don’t have to apologize for having limits.

And surviving something difficult is an accomplishment—even when nobody else sees the battle.

With love, laughter, and a little more grace for myself,

Kia Lorice
Founder • Author • Advocate • Future Wellness Coach
The Dual Diagnosis Diaries | Kia’s Journey 🌻