Chronically Fabulous is the name of author Jean Meltzer’s new podcast. It’s an interesting combination of words. (And if you’re not familiar with Jean Meltzer’s books, be sure to check out my posts about her first novel The Matzah Ball, her second novel Mr. Perfect on Paper, and her third novel Kissing Kosher. They all feature main characters who are Jewish women living with chronic illnesses and chronic pain.)

The podcast aims to be a safe space for listeners, and function like a conversation with your chronically ill friends. 

While I acknowledge my chronic illness, I don’t think it’s fabulous in any way. Actually I don’t even use the word “fabulous” all that much.

But, put together – Chronically Fabulous. I kind of like the idea. 

2023 was one of my toughest health years in terms of intense pain. It was the year of admitting it’s too hard to grocery shop by myself. The year we rented a wheelchair for our family summer trip to Washington, D.C. The year I bought a wheelchair to have for those special occasions when I’ll need it (such as attending a performance at the Hollywood Bowl). 

And while those were all super tough things, they’re also things I’m proud of. I didn’t cancel our summer trip after I began researching museums and monuments in D.C., knowing I wouldn’t be strong enough to walk them all. I found a way for our family to take the trip and that, I think, is an example of being chronically fabulous.

So far, Ms. Meltzer has released one episode of her podcast, and the part that most stood out to me was the discussion regarding “pacing.” No doctor has ever spoken to me about pacing — the idea that certain activities are more energy-intensive, so a person living with chronic pain has to figure out rest days (usually before and after the event). Pacing is a tool; a tool I haven’t regularly used. But it’s time. Because I simply can’t keep up anymore. Listening to the podcast, I realized I don’t do what Ms. Meltzer spoke of — creating boundaries and making myself, my health the priority. She wants listeners to “live your best, most valuable life.” 

And I want that too. 

Something I came to acknowledge this past year was my tendency to do everything possible to fight my pain; trying to pretend like there’s nothing wrong. Trying to act as if I can keep up with my same-age-as-me husband and high-school-age son. I have kept up the act for years, because I didn’t want to miss out on any shared family experiences. Because I didn’t want my illness to hold me back, or take any more from me than it already had, most heart-breaking of all being my teaching career. 

But 2023 was the year I saw I just can’t keep doing it. Something shifted. I am not waiting for some cure or major fix. It’s not coming. Instead, I’m searching for small, but mighty, tweaks. “Little” things that make a big difference in how I get through my days. And something I need to consciously work on is pacing. Learning to give myself permission to sit and read. Not pushing myself to plan big outings both weekend days. Trying to build in rest times the day before and the day after a big event. Trying to treat myself with the same compassion and kindness I so easily share with those I love.