Living with a Chronic Invisible Illness

I'll be enjoying a good conversation with a friend or family member, and then at some point the conversation will turn; they will get a serious face, and ask how I'm doing with my ulcerative colitis.
I will usually say it's doing well or mention some other food item I have to avoid.

Honestly for the most part it is okay. I'm glad that it is an invisible illness because then I don't have to see the pity stares and people don't see it as a disability that impairs my ability to do stuff. It is my burden to bare.

The problem is that I forget that I do have limitations. Try as hard as I can, my ulcerative colitis reminds me that it is still there.

It's there in my medications and vitamins I take every morning.

It's there in my infusions every two months.

It's in my bi-annual doctor appointments.

It's there in my colonoscopies every five years to check the status of my ulcerative colitis and to see if I have gotten any cancer from my medications.

It was in every day for the first year when I couldn't get the sound of the beeping hospital monitors out of my head.

It's in having to ask if I can still be an organ donor with all of the medications and infusions.

It's in getting tired after taking a long shower and having to sit naked on the floor of the bathroom.

It's in worrying about my ability to have children one day and worry that if I do have kids that they could get it too.

It's in having to stay home from work because my urgency came back and I can hardly leave the bathroom for an entire day.

It's in having a trump card when anyone brings up a diarrhea story. 

It's in having to worry about insurance and paperwork.

It's in not talking to my coworkers about my condition. They probably think that I just have weird menstrual cycles.

It's in seeing my mom start to cry at any mention of my stay at the hospital.

It's in every trip home and night out with my friends because I know how important they are.

It's in every prayer with God asking him to help me cope and see all the good in the world.

Living with a chronic invisible illness means that I keep a lot in my head. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't have any desire to have people treat me differently. I am just as tough as the next girl. The only limitations I have are the ones I place on myself. There is a lot that can go wrong in one's life. Luckily for me, my guts just hate me. Or really-some of my guts hate me.