"The day I moved into my dorm, I was nervous about explaining my invisible illness to my roommate.  Over the past few years, I had spent time in and out of hospitals, undergoing treatment, and on medication for my Crohn's Disease. I wanted to make sure my roommate understood the complications and the lifestyle I was going to have to lead in college. But as soon as I met my roommate and her parents, they began to explain my roommate's invisible illness to me! I got so excited that we had this in common, and we immediately began sharing stories.
"It's through connections like this that I've been able to connect with a circle of people like me at Notre Dame--people with invisible illnesses. Although we have a variety of diagnoses, we connect on a very specific and personal level. Soon after meeting my roommate, I heard from friends and from friends-of-friends about other people with restricted diets, people who couldn't get out of bed, people who were on the same medications I was. It became this 'tribe,' if you will, of people we know we can talk to. When we get together for meals, it's hilarious: there are so many food restrictions that it's tough to find something we can all eat together.
"One difficult part of spending a semester in London is being apart from that community. I had to explain my Crohn's to a new set of people. They saw someone who, from the outside, looked fine. My friends and I always cite Christine Miseradino's 'spoon theory' to explain how daily activities can be immensely difficult for someone with Crohn's, or with anything else. When I talk about my Crohn's, I've been asked in earnest if I'm dying. This must come from someone who just can't imagine what it's like. Those are the times I wish I had that friend group back with me, those who understand what I'm going through.
"But I would not wish my Crohn's away, as crazy as that might sound. It has made me who I am. It has made me a stronger person. I appreciate good days so differently now that it's not something I can always count on. I've found my friends by connecting with them over my illness. I've made friends in hospitals and with doctors. I now know that I'm so much stronger than I think I am. I don't want to be pitied: I want to be understood. And respected. You can't compare your struggles with anyone else's. Nobody wins the competition for having it the hardest. But you can connect, become stronger, and grow from it. And that's what I've learned since my diagnosis."