Navigating a flare.
Questions, lessons and reminders.
Sometimes we get so blinkered by specific triggers for individual flares, we’re unable to see the bigger picture.
One evening a little before Christmas, I noticed a reaction in my skin that felt different to what’s ‘normal’ for me. A small but persistent itch on my eyelid—hot and sticky. Tiny blisters on my lip-line. An itchy finger.
It’s funny, how well you come to know your body. One itch feeling entirely different to another, laying a path of clues. One version of pain, giving you signals that another version wouldn’t.
It happened so quickly; the onset of fear that a flare was on its way. Tools that I’ve collected over the years, ready and waiting to swoop in and counter. The soothing mantras, the reasoning and explaining.
It’s OK, it might not be a flare. If it is, I’ll get through it.
This time however, it did indeed turn out to be a flare. Inflammation spreading and intensifying, really making itself at home.
I’ll be OK. I’ll get through it. With any luck, it won’t get worse and won’t last too long.
Our brains are amazing things. Between the reasoning and explaining lay something akin to internal gaslighting—telling myself those itches were probably just my ‘normal’ itches when, deep down, I knew they weren’t.
Gaslighting, or my brain trying to protect me from spiralling into full blown panic?
Reasoning and explaining and mantras reminding me that, as shitty as flares are, they’re also both/ands.
Shitty and a signal.
Uncomfortable and informative.
Painful and nudges for extra self-compassion.
I know from past experience that my flares teach me things. They’re firm elbows in my side to pick up the practices that have faded into the background of life. Reintroductions to the ‘work’ I value so much.
Not my first rodeo. But I am out of practice, so to speak.
The first week of the flare, I did that thing where I tried to find an easy place to lay the blame. Flitting between whether it was something I ate, or a reaction to some medication I was prescribed.
Then followed everything else that comes with a flare. Frustration, disappointment, confusion, upset, hyper self-awareness. Distraction, numbing and destructive patterns. Flicking through the mental rolodex of quick fixes I know don’t really help.
My loving, caring, self-assured self feels somewhat sad at those reactions—my god, the chronic illness experience, such a complex cluster of emotions and as I say, I’m out of practice—I also know they’re completely understandable responses that do not need to be compounded with an ounce of shame. I’m human, with many truths being lived out all at once, and I get to show myself love for that.
And when all is said and (never really) done, I know there’s a deeper level to it all.
Of course, specific triggers—the food, the sleep, the medication…—for individual flares do matter; they’re information. But there’s also more to the picture.
Sometimes, they act as fantastic distractions, leading us to take quick action, allowing us to regain a feeling of much needed control when we feel so out of control.
Sometimes, they’re an easy place to lay blame 🙋🏻♀️
I do think it’s important that we look deeper, taking time to sit with what’s going on and question the status-quo.
When flares were on rinse and repeat in my body, there were two questions I used to return to. I’d forgotten just how helpful they are:
What is my chronic illness trying to tell me?
What is my body asking of me?
Same/same but slightly different; the latter allowing me to go a little deeper into exploration.
These two questions are a grounding homebase that lights the way for me to move forward with a more supported and supportive way of being.
And then, this time, because this flare seemingly ‘came out of nowhere’ (of course they never do), there was another question that helped me pop the pieces into the puzzle;
What’s changed between now and a month ago, two months ago, six months ago, that’s altered the level of resilience my body was holding?
That, and remembering not to panic. To trust in my body. To trust in my ability to ride this wave. To know that I’ve been here before and I’ll be here again and, ultimately, I *will* be OK.
I know my perspective on flaring is different. I’d love to know if it reading this made you feel any type of way; I’ll be in the comments and would love to chat.
If you’d like to delve a little deeper into exploring your flares, I have a free (and simple) framework that you can do when you’re in the headspace for it. You can get it here.