The Days That Don’t Make Sense.

Some days don’t make sense.

I slept. I hydrated. I paced myself.

And still — my body unraveled.

Those used to be the days that undid me emotionally, too. Because I believed that if I just did everything right, I could avoid the crash. Outsmart the flare. Control the outcome.

But chronic illness doesn’t work like that.

It doesn’t always reward effort.

It doesn’t always show cause and effect.

It doesn’t always make sense.

And I’ve learned — that’s part of the work.

I don’t treat my body like a math problem anymore.

Sometimes there is no reason.

Only a body asking to be believed.

I don’t wait for validation the way I used to, either.

I still appreciate kindness — but I’ve learned how to say to myself:

“This is real. And this is hard.”

These days, I plan for the mystery.

I leave space on my calendar.

I say “maybe” more often than “yes.”

I keep comfort close.

Not because I’m weak —

but because I’m wise.

I’ve also stopped trying to “win” at this.

There’s no prize for pushing through and collapsing.

No reward for pretending.

Some days are just hard.

And I don’t need a reason to rest anymore.

If today is one of those days for you —

you are not lazy.

You are not overreacting.

You are not making it up.

You’re living through something real.

And even if the day makes no sense —

you still make sense.

You’re not alone here.

This reflection lives in Compass Point 2 — Who Am I Now?