I used to be one of those people. You know, healthy. And arrogant about it.

Yeah, I've always been "a big girl" (aka, fat), but I was the "good" kind: healthy (great blood pressure, cholesterol, etc), if not obsessively active, I wasn't a great lump of lumphood – I could easily walk for a long time without getting tired. I had tons of energy. I was strong.

Did I say arrogant? Oh yeah, baby. Totally. I didn't understand why everyone couldn't just get up from the couch and move, dance, walk. If I could, they most certainly could.

And then, it struck. Chronic illness. Oh, not to me, not yet. To my mom (osteoarthritis) first. She went from a woman who loved the outdoors & activity to barely being able to walk 10 feet without stopping. Two bionic knees later, she's active!woman – easy peasy fix, right? (yes, I'm being sarcastic with a dose of self-stupidity).

Then, a close friend went from being able to (albeit slowly) walk with me and manage the ridiculous amount of walking & movement required at conventions to barely being able to get from the hotel bed to the bathroom without stopping due to back pain and other chronic issues. Over the more than ten years I've known her, I watched her mobility disintegrate. She rides a scooter now.

Was I cured of my arrogance yet? Nope, not completely. I had yet to walk in their shoes.

You see, I'm one of those folks that learn first by watching, then by doing. Evidently, that aspect of my being had to come into play with health, as well.

A few years ago, the doing part of my learning began. I suddenly started to lose breath when I walked long distances. My brain chalked it up to a more sedentary life. I was working full time plus writing. Not getting out as much. I was getting fatter (I really wasn't). I was getting older (well, yeah).

Then I developed some issues, all of which I chalked up to perimenopause. Aha! That was it. Only temporary, I reasoned. It'll soon be over.

A few years went by and the situation got worse instead of better. I had problems breathing. I had problems sleeping. I chalked it all up to work stress & sinus issues. I got handed anti-depressants (which never actually did much). Then more anti-depressants (still nada).

I eventually weaned myself off the pills and realized I felt better without them. Then, my eye doctor realized that my recurring eye inflammation wasn't actually responding all that well to treatment. It would go away, then as we removed the steroid drops, it came back. She knew something else was wrong.

Most of you know this already, I have been diagnosed with pulmonary sarcoidosis, an inflammatory disease that not only affects my lungs, but also comes with bonus!muscle inflammation.

Some days, I can barely get out of bed for the pain – a secondary effect of the inflammation.

When it's cold, it often flares up. As I'm writing this, my lower back muscles are a mass of spasms. I got up, was able to shower and go into work, but I'm a shit ton of no fun right now. I can't take anti-inflammatories (advil, etc) while I'm on the prednisone for the sarcoid. So I'm taking Tylenol. I really, really want a muscle relaxant.

I didn't want this lesson. Didn't want to "do". But it's happened and all my former arrogance has been wiped from me.

When I say I feel for you, I really, really do. Living with chronic illness/chronic pain is debilitating. I could never have imagined how much so. I could sympathize, could worry, but didn't really understand.

I'm beginning to.

I'm starting to grok how a person with chronic illness must pre-plan their day. Is it going to be a good day or a bad day? Will I be able to manage without a cane? Will I be able to make it through a grocery store trip? Can I make it down the hall without pausing?

My friend and fellow writer, Toni L.P. Kelner, blogged about her new heroes recently. Those heroes being folks with chronic illnesses…like me.

Until I read her post, I truly hadn't processed that I was that person now. My illness, my condition wasn't temporary. Sure, it can go into remission, but it won't ever go away.

Some days will be good. Some will not.

I'm going to have to learn to live with those limitations, to be able to say, "No, I can't" and not feel guilty or lesser. To understand that I'm still the same person as I was before and that my illness does not define me, it is only a part of me.

I endured fat hatred for years because I could say – hey, look at me: great health, great mobility. I could feel superior – not a good thing, but as I said, I was in arrogance mode. Fat isn't anymore fatal than life is. I could prove it–then. Now I can't. Prove it, that is.

That part's still true. People can be healthy & fat.

What's wrong with me has nothing to do with how much I weigh. It's an autoimmune disease just as likely to strike the tiny 100-pound gal next to me or the athlete down the hall. But for us folks in western culture, where OMGDeathFats pays for a $60 billion industry that thrives on failure, this is a terrifically difficult pill to swallow.

I wanted to be like Ragen Chastain of Dances With Fat. But I can't now. I may never be able to regain the physical ability I once had and so cavalierly dismissed.

Tough lessons.

I'm perfectly capable of sympathy and understanding to my friends and family with illness or disability. I know that they are awesome people in their entirety, but applying that same feeling to myself? Wow. A lot harder than it sounds. Part of me feels I've failed. I've not managed to hold up the whole fat-and-fit crown. My laurels have faded and broken.

All I can do right now is take life one day, one pill, one doctor visit at a time. I'm still in the "figuring out medicine dosages" stage of things, which leads to uncertainty and side-effects. I'm past the first few stages of grief and working my way into the final stage: acceptance.

As I said above, some days will be easier than others. But as the awesome Bloggess said the other day: the fight goes on. And I, for one, intend to do my absolute best to win each daily battle, whether it's something simple or more complex.

In the immortal words of the New Riders of the Purple Sage, I plan to just Keep on Keepin' on.

Because I know (most of the time) that I am and continue to be awesome. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.