Love looks like this.

When we said “I do” it included illness. Now, I can say it to my every cell.

I’m writing to you from 30,000 feet above the surface of the earth with my love by my side, flying to sun and fun and family at Disney World and I can hardly believe it.

One thing I know for sure about my body is that she has range. She knows how to live along a large spectrum of sensations, catapulting from might into misery overnight and then climbing, slower than I prefer but stronger than the mind can fathom, back into the bright light of life. I feel like a walking juxtaposition of sorrow and joy. (Please tell me some of you relate.) Many days, I feel more other than overcomer. I grow weary of weakness, of being the patient who gets the rare-ass complications of treatment like the three week stint of aseptic meningitis I am getting over just in time for vacation or that time getting a port almost killed me. I’ll spare you the litany of my weird losses. Because what I really need to tell you today is a love story.

If you follow me on IG, you’ve maybe read a sliver of this story,¹ but I’ll be sharing even more here in today’s essay, because the paid tier of Embodied is where I get to share a fuller-bodied expression of my life than I feel comfortable sharing with 55,000 strangers on the internet.

Why do I want to share more? Because in the hard seasons of suffering with chronic illness, seeing others survive helps mute the voice of shame inside of me that says I should be stronger than I am.

Representation returns the power of imagination to us, freeing us to see ourselves and our relationships not as sad stories of ruin after ruin but landscapes that are still ripe for joy.

(the *chef’s kiss* sunrise this morning leaving Colorado Springs)

Sidenote: I don’t want cost to limit your access to Embodied.

If you would like a paid subscription but can’t swing it right now, just send me an email (including the email you use to login to Substack) at kj@kjramsey.com and I’ll hook you up to my random musings, no questions asked. I got you.

If you are already a paid subscriber, thank you so much for letting my weirdo self be a little part of your life. I am grateful to get to search for goodness and honor necessary grief with you multiple times a month! Your support literally pays my mortgage, and as a disabled lady, that is huge. 🙏🏼 Beyond grateful for each of you.