Read time 6 minutes
Gratitude is my morning mantra. Every heartbeat and step forward in recovery is a blessing I don’t take for granted. So, dear Universe, thank you. You continue to bless me with health and the strength to persevere.
Introduction: When My Life Became a Punchline
Back in 2016, my life took a drastic turn into the surreal.
In 2016, my life changed forever. I was diagnosed with Isaacs’ Syndrome. It is a rare neurological condition that causes continuous muscle fiber activity. Imagine your muscles twitching and cramping without rest.
That diagnosis alone was overwhelming. But it didn’t stop there.
Soon after, I learned I had Lyme disease, a bacterial infection caused by tick bites. Then came Glaucoma, threatening my vision. Then, Membranous Glomerulonephritis, a kidney condition that added another layer of complexity.
As if that wasn’t enough, other conditions followed like uninvited guests:
It felt like the universe had handed me a medical bingo card and I was winning in all the worst ways.
My Spiritual Spiral: Karma, Confusion, and Cosmic Irony
When I was hit with one illness, I asked, “Why me?” When I was hit with eight, I started whispering to the universe, “What did I do in my past lives to go through all of this?”
I’ve spent years navigating the unpredictable terrain of chronic illness. Honestly, each diagnosis just made things murkier. It was like I was being dragged into some cosmic game, but no one gave me the rules or even told me I was playing.
Growing up, karma was more than a concept, it was a quiet compass. I believed that the choices I made good or bad, left invisible fingerprints on my life that unfolded.
It was comforting, in theory. A cosmic justice system. A spiritual cause and effect.
But when my body began to betray me, that belief turned sharp. I found myself wondering:
Was I being punished? Had I unknowingly racked up some kind of karmic debt? Was this suffering a spiritual invoice I didn’t remember signing?
The irony was suffocating. Spirituality, which once felt like a warm blanket, began to resemble a riddle wrapped in cosmic sarcasm. If karma was real, what lesson was I supposed to learn from being a walking medical encyclopedia? Was it patience? Or was it just the universe’s way of saying, “You’re not in control—and that’s the point”?
I searched for meaning in every flare-up, every prescription, every sleepless night. I read spiritual texts, meditated through pain, and tried to find peace in the chaos. But the answer didn’t come.
Maybe that’s the lesson. Not punishment. Not debt. But surrender. Surrendering to the mystery. To the not-knowing.
So here I am, still searching….
But I’ve learned to find beauty in the irony, and strength in the surrender. Because even if the universe is laughing, I’m still here. Still healing. Still hoping.
The Cosmic Joke: Laughing Through My Pain
There’s a moment in every chronic illness journey when you stop crying and start laughing. Not because things are funny, but because they’re absurd.
I remember sitting in a clinic, waiting for yet another test, when I overheard someone complain about a sprained ankle.
I wanted to scream, just try juggling Isaacs’ Syndrome, Lyme disease, and kidney issues!
But instead, I chuckled. Not out of bitterness, but because life had become so bizarre, it felt like a cosmic joke.
Humor didn’t cure anything, but it helped me reclaim a sliver of control. When the universe throws curveballs, sometimes the only sane response is to laugh it out.
My Spiritual Beliefs: Are They Comforts or Complications?
On one hand:
Meditation, mantras, and mindfulness gave me tools to cope. They helped me breathe through the pain. I found moments of peace and connect with something greater than myself.
I found solace in the idea that suffering wasn’t meaningless, that maybe, just maybe, it was part of a larger plan.
On the other hand:
Spiritual sayings like “everything happens for a reason” felt cruel. What reason could justify this level of suffering? Was I supposed to be grateful for the opportunity to grow through agony?
Even today, I wrestle with these questions daily. Sometimes I find clarity. Other times, I drown in confusion.
Searching for Meaning in My Mess
Illness striped me down. It forced me to confront who I am without the routines and identities I once clung to.
I wasn’t just a patient.
I was a seeker. I read books on religions. I spoke to therapists, and spiritual teachers. Everyone had a theory. Some said I was purging ancestral trauma. Others believed I was undergoing a sacred purpose.
Truthfully? I didn’t know what to believe. But the search itself became meaningful. It gave me purpose beyond survival.
The Puzzle Called Acceptance
One of the hardest lessons I learned was acceptance.
Not the kind that says, “it is what it is,” but the active kind that says, “This is happening, and I will meet it with grace.”
Acceptance didn’t mean giving up. It meant letting go of the need to control the uncontrollable.
I made peace with my body, even when it betrayed me. It meant forgiving myself for not being able to “heal faster” or “stay positive” all the time.
And yes, today for me it means accepting karma wasn’t only a punishment, it was a teacher.
Mental Health: My Invisible Battle
Chronic illness isn’t just physical, it’s even psychological. The toll it took on my mental health was immense.
There were days I couldn’t get out of bed, not because of pain, but because of hopelessness. I questioned my worth and my future.
Spirituality helped but so did therapy, medication, and support groups. Healing isn’t linear, and it isn’t one-size-fits-all.
Today, sometimes I feel the need to repeat my mantra and sometimes I need a mood stabilizer.
My Body as a Battlefield
Living with multiple chronic conditions feels like being at war with my own body.
Isaacs’ Syndrome made my nerves misfire. Lyme disease attacked my immune system. Glaucoma threatened my sight. Membranous Glomerulonephritis compromised my kidneys. IBS disrupted my digestion. Diabetes altered my metabolism. Frozen shoulder restricted my movement. Eczema inflamed my skin. Blood pressure issues added another layer of unpredictability.
Each condition demanded attention. Each treatment came with side effects. But through it all, I learned:
To listen to the whispers of my body, the signals of my soul, and the wisdom of my intuition.
Healing vs. Curing: A Shift in My Perspective
There’s a difference between curing and healing.
Curing is about eliminating disease. Healing is about finding wholeness despite it.
I may (never) be “cured” of Isaacs’ Syndrome. But I can heal emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically.
In the midst of all this I have cultivated joy, resilience, and meaning. My life isn’t limited and defined by them.
Lessons from the Abyss
If illness is a teacher, here’s what it taught me:
- Resilience isn’t only about being strong, it’s about being soft enough to bend without breaking
- Faith isn’t only blind; it’s the ability to see light in the darkest places
- Humor is not only holy; it transforms suffering into something bearable
- Community is not only about medicines; it’s about being seen and heard is healing in itself
- Purpose not only evolves but it also states that surviving is the most sacred mission
Conclusion: Making Peace with the Cosmic Joke
Today, I live with uncertainty. My body is still unpredictable. My symptoms still flare. But I’ve stopped asking “Why me?” and started asking “What now?”
Karma, illness, and the cosmic joke; they’re all part of the collage. I don’t claim to understand it fully. But I’ve made peace with the mystery.
I’ve learned to laugh, cry, and create meaning from the mess.
If you’re walking a similar path, know this: you’re not alone. Your pain is valid. And even in the absurdity, there is beauty.
DISCLAIMER
The views expressed in this blog are personal reflections. They do not constitute medical advice or professional guidance. Always consult your healthcare provider for treatment and diagnosis.