Over the past eight weeks, I’ve dropped nearly 20 pounds. This isn’t a post about my weight loss journey. It’s the start of a series of reflections on chronic illness and our unhealthy relationship with body image.
In mid-July, I started to get very sick every day. It didn’t matter what I ate or drank, I found myself running to the bathroom urgently, sometimes at the most inopportune times, like in the middle of driving my son to summer camp. Every episode wiped out my body from head to foot, exhausting all my energy and draining my brain.
For the first few days, I thought I’d caught a stomach bug. I even cancelled a summer weekend away because I didn’t want to get my friends sick. But the symptoms hung on.
I went to the doctor, got a colonoscopy, and all my tests came back negative. I was relieved that this illness wasn’t a predictable kind of cancer or an easily diagnosable chronic condition, but my frustration eclipsed that relief. I was sick every day, and it was interrupting the regular flow of life.
Alongside the unpleasant outputs of this illness, I also lost my appetite. In recent weeks, I became constantly nauseous. Altogether, I quickly lost weight – too quickly.
I’m someone who has long struggled with that too-common feeling of being too big. This past year, I’d also gained some weight, after losing my mother, separating from my husband, and grieving the sudden passing of friends. So losing the weight, at first, felt like a happy side effect of this otherwise unpleasant illness – and a difficult year.
But now, I’d trade almost anything to feel well again.
One of the ironies is that, before I got sick, I’d contemplated getting on a GLP-1 drug to intentionally lose weight. I had hesitated because of the potential side effects. Yet, I have managed to acquire all the nasty side effects of those medications without choosing it for myself.
This experience has left me thinking deeply about our relationship to weight (read this excellent recent post from
about GLP-1s and body image), chronic illness, and the toll that grief takes on our bodies. I don’t pretend that my thoughts are new ideas – others are writing and speaking about experiences of serious illness with great depth and grace – but I plan to write some of my thoughts in this space in hopes that sharing my experience might help even a few people feel less hopeless and alone in their own, complicated bodies.I’d also love to hear your ideas and experiences. Share in the comments — or reach out if you want to talk.
I’m working my way up to my own postings. As someone who was diagnosed with chronic leukaemia earlier this year I certainly understand your post.
I’ve always had a complex relationship with my own weight. Watching it drop off from a chronic illness has been interesting to process
Powerful post, Kristina, thank you for reflecting on all of this. Grief is so weird and unpredictable. sending love