Let It Be Me. . .

If I had had cancer, instead of Hashimoto's, I would be a survivor! Because if you get cancer, God forbid, you get to cross a finish line covered in pink ribbons. There is a seemingly end, or goal for you to achieve. Remission. Freedom. And along the way, you are surrounded by rally members, team players, fundraisers, charity walks, merchandise, months dedicated to you and your plight. It becomes the greatest example of "why". "Why" you are feeling sick. "Why" you can't do what you used to do. "Why" you are not the same woman you once were. "Why". And it makes everything okay; even though it's so not okay. Because everyone can see, can understand. . . 
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Take all the time you need." 
"Cancer sucks!" 
"You'll get through this!" 
"We're all praying for you!" 
"I wear this ribbon on my sleeve for you." 
"I lost my Mom to cancer." 

People get it. 

People don't get Hashimoto's. People don't see why you are feeling sick. People don't see why you can't do what you used to. All people see is that you are not the same woman you once were, and that that's not okay. People don't see the muscle fatigue, the endless drain of energy, the lack of sleep, the deep need to sleep, the absence of metabolism, the hair loss, the dry skin, the depression, the uncontrollable weight gain, the memory loss, the unexplained physical pains, the freezing feeling in the bones, the hollow body that once held life. They don't see any of this. They only see who you are not. You become trapped in the shadow the woman you once were, torn between resenting her, and pining over the memory of her. There are no rallies for Hashimoto's . No ribbons to wear. No finish lines to cross. No moments of celebration. No months dedicated as a reminder that it even exists. And even if there were a month, it would be January. The gray, somber, rather skip over month that isn't really worth celebrating to begin with. Because to people, Hashimoto's is not a big enough reason "why" to even notice, let alone, stand behind. You don't survive Hashimoto's, you get to live with it. 

But I want you to know, I get it.

I get what not many people see. And I see what not many people get. So. . .
"I'm so sorry. Take all the time you need."
"Hashimoto's sucks!"
"You'll get through this!"
"I am praying for you!"
"I wear my heart on my sleeve for you."
"Because, I lost my life to Hashimoto's."

You are not alone.