My Silent Suffering

Verse: 2 Corinthians 12:9 Song: Highs & Lows by Matt Cooper

Written by: Jessi Drost

Looking at me, you’d never know… 

I have two arms, two legs, two hands, and two feet that all appear to work properly. I have normal brown hair and brown eyes, an average body build, a smile that comes easily. I can walk, I can laugh, I can converse with the best of them. I’m a wife of almost 10 years, I have 4 small kids, I homeschool, I garden and am usually found in the kitchen with my toddlers baking or cooking something yummy. I love the Lord, good coffee and books, and my community. If you ask my Mom, I never stop moving and doing. On the outside I appear just like any other healthy individual; there are no obvious signs of illness. 

Just by looking at me, you’d never know that I am on year 5 of life altering autoimmune diseases that are wreaking havoc in my body. You’d never know just how much of me I’ve had to give up in the name of chronic illness. 

I suppose if you know me well enough and look close enough, you might see the signs or changes I’ve had to make in my life… 

How slow I have to move when using my hands because they don’t fully function properly anymore, or how many things I drop or can’t pick up in my day to day life because my back, hands, and body will randomly give out. 

You might notice that most days we stay home because lifting car seats and toddlers and bags hurts me too much. Not to mention hands that don’t work well aren’t always able to buckle and unbuckle car seats… 

You might wonder why we often say no to things or have to cancel plans at the last minute. You might even look with a critical eye when I turn down seemingly good opportunities others would be thrilled to have, but you see, I don’t have the capacity to overbook my schedule like most do. A packed week equates to being stuck in bed unable to walk, which is obviously not something I can afford to do in this season with little ones to care for. 

You might notice my house isn’t in perfect order like it used to be, or wonder why in a world of schedules and structure my schedule has to be made on a day to day basis, because I never know what my body will be capable of each day. 

You might wonder why someone who used to be an avid runner and sports junkie doesn’t pick up a basketball or log any miles anymore. Or why I’m often on the sidelines while my kids run and laugh and play. 

You might notice the butterfly rash on my cheeks or the rash on my neck that I get when I’m having yet another flare up, but those are easy to cover up with make up. You might wonder why I can only eat a little bit at a time, or even see me grimace in pain at the end of a long day of being on my feet. You might pick up on a few strange things here and there, but honestly, just by looking at me, you’d never know… 

You’d never know that my body is riddled with extreme fatigue and excruciating pain. You don’t see the bruises on my toes and fingers from overworked joints, or how swollen my feet are when I take off my shoes each night. You didn’t see me crawl up the stairs in tears and in pain each evening to get my baby out of his crib, wishing Wyatt didn’t work such long days. You weren’t there those first few months when I was so angry at God and at the world, wondering why this was happening to my previously healthy body. You don’t know that some days I can’t eat because I am in so much pain I feel like I’m going to puke and the thought of forcing down food is impossible. You don’t see the tears of sorrow and frustration and defeat when yet another supplement, another diet plan, another book doesn’t help…

You don’t know how many tearful conversations I’ve shared late at night with Wyatt, wondering if what I can do for my family is enough. If I am failing everyone simply because I live in a broken, imperfect body. You don’t know the guilt I carry because I have to rely on my husband to pick up the slack in ways I never imagined him having to do, or that I can’t give my kids the childhood I always thought I would as a healthy vibrant Mom. 

Will my family resent me one day? Is meeting their needs and providing a life built on simplicity enough? Oh how loud the doubts and what ifs can be…

How can a person unable to function like everyone else still feel value and worth and purpose when they live in a culture that bases those things off of what they are capable of doing? Aren’t I enough just as I am, living in this broken body? How can I not feel shame and guilt when I have to say no to things others expect me to be able to do no problem. Why don’t they understand how hard this is?

You don’t know how much it hurt when I was told I was lazy because I wasn’t able to pitch in like everyone else, when I had already done too much for my body’s ability and couldn’t walk let alone do more physical labor. You have no idea how invalidating it is when someone questions my illness because it doesn’t “look that bad”, when in reality it’s my high pain tolerance and many years of competitive sports that keep me powering through without complaining or wanting to make excuses, sometimes to my own detriment. 

If you’ve only heard how many desperate prayers I have said for healing, and how lonely and frustrating it can feel when instead of healing I only get worse… If you only could see how many times I looked in the mirror, wondering who I am now. This body doesn’t feel like my own anymore… 

If you had a front row seat to my suffering, would you be kinder? More understanding? Would you tell me my sickness isn’t my fault? Would you remind me that I’m doing my best, and that not getting the desired outcome of a healed body does not automatically mean I’m doing something wrong? Would you let me be vulnerable and honest without judgment or telling me that I need to be positive? 

If you only knew how many tears that I shed on the day I finally accepted this is my body now, and it’s about time I start to live my life with the body I have instead of putting my life on hold waiting to get my old, healthy body back. How could you tell me that finally reaching a place of peace with my illness was a lack of faith, when every day for 5 years I have begged God to take it all away? I’m finally learning to live in the reality of what is while trusting the lord with what is to come, isn’t this a good thing?

If you only knew how hard it is to keep trusting the Lord through life altering illness… how hard it is to keep going and keep smiling when some days all you want to do is give up. How misunderstood you feel when ignorant people foolishly open their mouths in judgement or comparison. How lonely it can be to suffer quietly because your wounds are invisible to the human eye…. But that’s when I remember that we all have invisible suffering. We all have things that we have to face that aren’t fair…

If we only knew the suffering of others, would we be kinder? Would we be more understanding, compassionate and supportive? Would we check in more or go out of our way to be a blessing to someone in the pit of despair? Would we slow down and actually see the people the Lord wants us to start showing up for in tangible ways? Isn’t that why God made us each unique with different gifts and different stories? To balance out the brokenness of this world so that when we are operating in unity we can better glorify him? But if we choose to suffer in silence, are we allowing that to exist? Am I using my testimony and my story to encourage and support others if I never talk about it? 

Thus far, my autoimmune diseases aren’t something I’ve talked about much. I have a beautiful life and the last thing I ever want to do is complain when I know all of us suffer through different levels of hardships. But I’m starting to think that is exactly why I should talk about it. We are all promised suffering in this fallen and broken world, so how are we using our suffering to point others to Jesus if we never talk about it? 

Maybe that’s what I’ve been failing to see all along… there is purpose to my pain. While some days it all feels unfair, I know that God is and will use my suffering for good. I know he is in control and will guide my every step if I let him. I know he wants to use each of our stories to further his kingdom… so maybe it’s about darn time I tell you about mine… 

Because maybe you too will learn that your value isn’t in what you do, but in who you are. 

Maybe you too will learn that you don’t need to feel guilty for having limitations, and that it’s okay if you can’t meet everyone’s expectations.

Maybe you too will learn that it’s okay for your life to look different than the lives of others.

Maybe you too will learn that it’s okay to do what is best for your family even if others don’t understand. It is indeed okay and wise to say no sometimes!

Maybe you too will learn that a happy life isn’t built on what you have or what you do, but in who you spend it with and the love you share. 

Maybe you too will learn that it’s okay to have a limited capacity, we can’t do it all and that is okay.

Maybe you too will learn to let go of worldly things so you can focus more on what is eternal. 

Maybe you too will learn that it’s not a weakness to ask for help. Vulnerability is where hearts can truly connect…

Maybe you too will learn to surround yourself with people who pick you up instead of kick you when you are down.

Maybe you too will learn to walk away from environments and relationships that harm you so that God can make room for true peace and healing. 

Maybe you too will learn that healing of the heart is far more impactful and important than healing of the body…

Maybe you too will learn that God has a different path for each of us, and that we should be encouraging one another to walk closely to him, even if it looks different than what we would do. 

Maybe you too will learn to be who God made you to be, free of shame, free of guilt, and free of living to please others.

Maybe you too will learn that vulnerability, a compassionate listening ear, and genuine gentle care for others are superpowers this world needs more of…

Maybe, just maybe through my story of suffering, you will feel encouraged to draw closer to the Lord through your own trials, just like I have learned to do. And maybe like me, one day you’ll look back with gratitude for all the good your suffering has brought to you and to others…

We all face trials and tribulations, some obvious, and some in secret behind clothes doors. Some physical, some emotional, some relational. We all have scars and stories and open wounds that need tender care and healing. But most importantly, we all have a heavenly Father who wants to show us just how much he sees us and loves us, despite the outcome we might get here on earth. 

I pray that whatever suffering you may be facing right now, you surrender it fully to the Lord. I pray that on the days you want to give up, you look for the glimmers of his goodness in the midst of your pain. I pray that he would use his people to come alongside you, and that through their actions, you would feel his love and his care for you. I pray most of all, that through whatever suffering you may face, you know that you aren’t facing it alone. He is always there! On your good days, on your bad days, when you are angry and defeated, and when you are on the verge of giving up. He never leaves you nor forsakes you. His grace is sufficient for you no matter what you may face, all you need to do is surrender your heart and life to him. 

Your life and your story matter. You might not see it now, or ever in this fallen and broken world, but God can and will use your unexplainable, inexcusable pain and scars for good. We only need to trust him. 

I am praying for you, friend. For the pain I know of, and the pain I don’t. Don’t forget that despite your brokenness, you matter! You matter to God and to me. You might not see a way out now, or ever get the outcome your heart so desires, but know that God is with you in your trials. Even if you can’t see it now, are loved, you are chosen, and you are covered by the blood of Christ. 

What more could we really need…