I wish I could report on happier terms — that life has been great, that I’ve been thriving, that things have finally started going “my way”, as someone recently wished for me. But in all honesty, my reality is still the same day‑to‑day chronic fatigue and exhaustion. It hasn’t really gotten worse, but neither has it gotten any better…
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”
The famous opening line of Charles Dickens’ 1859 novel ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ captures a sense of contradictions and paradox.
I don’t really feel in control. At the worst parts of the day it honestly feels debilitating – I don’t think one can escape the sensation of physical pain. And I’ve been finding it hard to “rest” well — physically, emotionally, spiritually. I never seem to feel fully rested, and with no real signs of improvement, well sometimes I’m not quite sure what I’m looking forwards to in (this) life.
I also feel like a broken record whenever people ask for prayer points or check in on how I’ve been. It’s a small existential dilemma every time: How honest can I really be about how I’m feeling? And even if I am honest, should I be validating those feelings? There are always others worse off. How much of this is simply me needing to “manage myself” internally, and how much can anyone else realistically help from the outside? The thing for me is that it is a cycle of better moments, then worse, then better, etc.
A long‑time friend of mine is getting married soon. I’m genuinely excited for them. And yet, he’s now starting to face health challenges of his own. His fiancée has already begun using the language of “accepting his disability” while they wait for a formal diagnosis — because the symptoms are already here, already shaping their present. As they’ve been thinking ahead and planning for their future, this health condition concern could have very daunting and real implications. Watching them navigate this makes me wonder about my own situation in ways I haven’t fully articulated yet.
Anyway, this post is mostly just a place for me to vent — no profound conclusion today. I’m aware my irritability has been probably been showing more lately, and I’m sorry for that. (Does constant abdominal pain affect mental stress reactions – the gut‑brain axis?)
Bringing it back to Scripture, I keep thinking of Paul’s words about “a thorn in my flesh.” (2 Corinthians 12) Whatever his thorn was, it served as a constant reminder of his humanity and dependence. My own pain does the same: it humbles me, slows me, and forces me to remember that I am not self‑sufficient — that much I do know.
1 I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.
— Psalm 121
Back to the "torn in my flesh" passage, Paul concludes that:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Finding strength in weakness… now isn’t that something to ponder!