The Hope in the Unknown

            It’s natural for people to think about the future. To wonder what will happen. To worry about it. When making decisions, we try to predict the future. We think about things that have happened in the past. We imagine what it would be like if that happened now. We imagine how it would feel. It can feel impossible to make a decision when you don’t know everything. It often seems like if only you knew what would happen, it would be so much easier.

            But I am so grateful that we don’t know what will happen in the future. It means life can surprise us. And sometimes, those surprises are truly awful. But sometimes, they are incredible, better than we could have ever imagined.

            I would’ve made most of the hardest decisions in my life differently if I’d known what would happen. I would’ve chosen the safer option, the one I thought would help me avoid pain.

            If I had known how sick I’d get in college, I never would’ve gone to school four hours away from my family. Two years later when I had to decide if I wanted to move across the country for graduate school, I was again worried about my health. But I chose to believe it could be okay, because by that time, it was. If I had known that I’d get sick again, I don’t think there’s any way I could’ve chosen to come to school anyway.

            It has been psychologically proven that people will do more to avoid being in pain than they will to pursue pleasure. And I know that’s exactly what I do. I am sure that if I knew how sick I’d get in graduate school, I wouldn’t have come. If I’d known how difficult it would be to get good medical care here, I wouldn’t have come. And yes, it’s been terrible. There have been hours, days, and weeks where I’ve wondered how I’ll survive. I’ve considered dropping out more than a few times-even though I love the program, sometimes I think I’m too sick to do it. If I knew how painful some of these times would be, I never would have been able to choose it.

            But I’m so glad I did. Because I came to graduate school here, I’ve gotten to work my dream job. I’ve gotten work in a whole new industry that didn’t exist where I’m from, alongside colleagues who are passionate about their work. And I’ve had fun: I’ve made incredible friends. I’ve gone on adventures to explore this new state. I’ve even seen the Northern Lights, one of my lifelong goals.

A first glimpse of the Northern Lights

            There’s a Nelson Mandela quote, “May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” To me, that quote is everything. When we’re concerned about our pain, it’s so easy to be controlled by our fears. And sometimes, that is necessary. There are often things we legitimately can not do because we’re sick. But it can also be so easy to listen to that voice of fear when we don’t need to.

            I think one of the most incredible gifts we’re given as a species is that we don’t know what will happen next. We can worry about it, we can imagine different situations. But we don’t know until it happens. And while that can seem scary, I think it makes us incredibly lucky because it gives us the chance to choose hope instead of avoiding pain.

            The next time you’re trying to make a decision and find yourself wishing that you knew what would happen, try pausing. Remind yourself that you’ll never know what will happen. You could imagine a million scenarios and they could all be wrong. Instead, try to notice which choice you’re tempted to make to avoid pain, and which choice follows your hopes.

A Small Reminder that Keeps Me Going

Months ago, when I was complaining about how some of my symptoms were making it impossible for me to do my school work, my therapist reminded me, “This is only one moment.” At the time, I didn’t really get it.

            This week, that quote has been everything. When my symptoms get worse, it can be easy to panic. When I feel like I can’t eat, or I’m too sick to do anything, it can be really scary. I worry that I won’t be able to eat again. That I’ll just get sicker if I can’t eat. And in those moments, it often feels like those problems will last forever.

            When I have to lie in bed because I’m too sick to do my work, it’s easy for my thoughts to spiral. How will I ever finish this presentation if I’m too sick? How will I give this presentation? How will I ever do school work again? Will I need to drop out of school? But how can I even have a career? In those moments, it’s so easy to feel broken. It’s easy to feel incapable of doing anything, because often, I am.

            But what’s important is that I probably won’t feel that way forever. Maybe in that moment, my pain feels unimaginable, but it won’t feel that way forever. There may be times in the future that it will get worse, but there will also be times it will get better.

            This week has been a challenge for two reasons: my symptoms have been worse and I’ve been struggling to schedule doctors appointments. When my symptoms are so bad, it can be terrifying to imagine that I’d have to put up with them for even a few more hours.

            In the middle of that, when I called to schedule an appointment, I was told I could see the doctor in four months. Four months. I cried. I broke down completely. I had forced myself to call because I knew that I needed help. And yet, in that moment, it became clear that I wouldn’t get that help. At least not from that person.

Looking ahead at a calendar, dreading waiting months for an appointment

            In that moment, I absolutely did lose hope. I couldn’t imagine how I could possibly survive the next four months. I couldn’t even imagine surviving the next week. I couldn’t believe that I would still be alive four months from now if I were still dealing with these symptoms. I knew I would have to quit my job, that I would have to move away from my friends.

            But luckily, after I was able to calm down, I could remind myself that “this is only one moment.” Yes, I felt so crappy and incapable of anything that day. But there had been other days since getting sick that I was able to go to work, that I could eat food, that I could see friends. Most likely, in the future, I would be able to do those things again. And if I couldn’t, maybe something else would change.

            I still knew there was no way I could wait four months for an appointment. But I also knew that even if I didn’t have the energy to find another plan that day, maybe in the future I would. I knew that maybe another day, it would be possible to contact other doctors. I knew that even if the problem couldn’t be solved immediately, that didn’t mean it would last forever.

            Living with chronic illness can be hard. Symptoms are unpredictable, you never know how long they’ll last. And some you know will last forever. But we don’t know everything. We have to believe that it will get better. That even when it feels impossible to keep going, “this is only one moment.”