I run a monthly writing work shop for people with chronic illness or other debilitating conditions. Each month, I set a theme related to the craft of writing or to an aspect of living with chronic illness. With Valentine’s Day around the corner, this month’s theme was love letters. The announcement was met with groans and rolled eyes. “Wait,” I implored. “Not that kind of love letter.”
Valentine’s Day can be a tricky day for many, whether sick or well, coupled or uncoupled. There’s pressure, there are expectations, there are celebrations and letdowns and everything in between. The holiday can be especially difficult for patients who don’t feel capable of dating, or whose relationship may have disintegrated as a result of illness. You might not feel like celebrating love at a time when you’re feeling hatred toward your body, or at least toward your illness. You may feel resentment toward those who have met your illness with anything but love.
This is where the love letters come in.
As a model text, I read to my meetup participants a letter from Lyme warrior Bonnie van Geffen, published on the Global Lyme Alliance website in 2017. In most letters, including love letters, we write to someone else. In “A Letter to MySick Self”, van Geffen writes to herself, which naturally allows her to step outside her interior view and talk to herself as someone on the outside looking in. Doing so allows her to shift from internalized messages of hate, shame, and guilt to external directives of love. She writes, “Please don’t ever call your body weak again. It had to fight so much for so long, that it’s oneof the strongest you’ll ever meet.” Van Geffen goes on, “Please don’t ever feel guilty for not being the perfect friend, girlfriend, daughter, or employee. You are not your disease.” And the one that particularly gets me: “Don’t accuse yourself of being difficult to love. Don’t you dare tell yourself that ever again…When you feel hate for yourself, you are actually hating Lyme disease.But there is so much more to you than that. You are loyal, giving, generous, and have a big heart.”
When I stopped reading, I looked around the Zoom room. Cringe had shifted to awe and gratitude. I could see in people’s eyes that they were thinking, Wow, that could be me, too, and, how empowering. Then those same people who had groaned and rolled their eyes started eagerly writing to a choice of two prompts: write a love letter to yourself or your illness, or write a letter to someone involved in your story (such as a doctor, family member, or friend) telling them what you need them to know.
What flowed was an outpouring of l love: for themselves and all they’d survived; for their bodies and all they’d endured; for their illnesses and all the life lessons they’d imparted; and for the loved ones who do get it, who do see them, who do make them feel validated and heard.Sharing these letters aloud, we could literally feel the love in the room.
And so I challenge you, fellowLyme warriors and chronic illness patients, to write your own love letter to yourself, to your illness, to someone, or to something. One meetup participant wrote toan oak tree, thanking it for the ways it had remained sentient and strong.
If you’re not up to writing a letter, there are other ways to practice self-love this Valentine’s Day (andall the year through!). Here are some ideas that have worked for me:
And perhaps most importantly, give yourself a pat on the back. You are fighting a battle no one would choose. With each act of self-love, you are helping yourself heal. (For more on self- love, see my 2016 blog post “Valentine’sDay: A Celebration of Self-Love”.)
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