The Interconnection of Invisible Illness

Laura, in a grey turtleneck sweater and red hat, smiling to camera and standing in front of a fireplace.

Invisible illnesses are all I know and have reshaped every fiber of my being. Many develop mental anguish after years of managing crippling chronic pain - but I went reverse course.  

In 2016, I was in a battle for my life. That battle was my own internal battle. I nearly did not survive. My mind was being ravaged by what would soon be diagnosed Major Depressive Disorder. The subtle signs had been running under the current for some time, but once depression truly took root, it would not relent. Depression ravaged my mind and distorted every single shred of reality. Of perception. Of clarity.  

 During the darkest depths of my battle with mental illness, the disease stole my strength, clarity, cognitive functioning, and ability to make even the simplest of decisions. I became a shell of a human. The previously super social creature I was became a mute. I withdrew from people I loved. I stopped being able to do my job. I stopped knowing how to live. The mind is so powerful and once illness invades, disease wants to be the victor.   

In the 3 years following 2016, there were entirely too many moments staring at my broken, defeated face in the mirror. It became a battle of self-will for survival. Fight for one more hour. And then one more. 

Suddenly, the years have passed, and I am a survivor. I am strong. Resilient. Empathetic. I know the depths of finding yourself swimming under current, constantly attempting one second above water. The undercurrent is unpredictable. Especially when it seems that you have the heaviest weights strapped to your ankles, bringing you further away from air. One breath. Come up for air. Back underwater. I know the depths of the deepest, darkest hole and fought my way out. I was brought back down and tested many times. 

I taught myself how to rebuild. The healing journey always starts within ourselves. I had numerous resources and support that gave me an advantage, but the real work is internal. The treatment options I explored and utilized knew no bounds. When medications were not working, I researched and tried alternative treatment options, at the guidance of my doctor. When my doctor no longer served me, I found new doctors. No rock was left unturned in my fight to live.  

Absolute sheer will and leaning into the right resources is what allowed me to very slowly start rebuilding. I was building back up from the ashes. 

My mental health journey changed me, for the better. I found my voice and my purpose. I found my footing by honoring the pain, but embracing the beautiful parts of me that I discovered along the journey. I sat in the pain. I fought the hardest of fights. I did the work. 

The invisible scars of my battles are etched in every fiber of who I am, but they are what make me who I am today. I actively practice gratitude. I find and cultivate joy in the smallest ways. 

Shortly after I started healing mentally; I experienced what would become a lifelong journey battling another invisible illness: chronic pain.  

After navigating some of the most renowned hospital systems to help understand and treat my chronic pain - constantly shifting, pivoting and advocating for my care - I see how much those of us with invisible illnesses have to advocate to be taken seriously medical. Illnesses that cannot be seen require medical professionals to trust their patients. For women, symptoms that cannot be seen are entirely too often considered psychosomatic and in our heads. 

The onslaught of my chronic pain was similar to my diagnosis in 2016 with Major Depressive Disorder. Fast and furious. 

I lifted my 30 pound nephew one day, who I had lifted often for the first 1.5 years of his life, and that was the beginning of my chronic pain journey. Pain arrived suddenly and never went away. Soon after that incident, after being turned away by a medical provider, the bulging disc hit a nerve cavity that has now compromised my right leg. I drive with my left foot. I often limp. I wear a specialty belt and have a lumbar pillow that comes with me everywhere I go. I wear compression socks and take two baths a day with essential oils and bath salts. Despite these efforts, the nerve damage spread to both hands and I developed carpal tunnel out of nowhere. It was at the stage of needing surgery. And then it healed. To me, this is a testament to the strength of cultivating a strong, resilient mind. 

Nearly every single moment, awake or not, for the last 2 ½ years, I am in varying degrees of pain. It is difficult to get the care you need for illnesses that cannot be seen to the outward eye. Despite that, doctors have shared that my body is in overdrive trying to heal itself. I owe that to the strength and perseverance of my mind. The mind that turned against me and told me I was not enough. That same mind now works for me to help me fight my new invisible illness that will also be with me for life. 

The work I did to heal myself through my mental anguish, the ability to finally sit and feel the mental turmoil, allowed me to climb out of my personal purgatory. The strength of your mind is humbling.  

We all hold pain and uncertainty differently. We all find strength, resilience, fight our internal battle, differently.  I cannot tell you how many days I looked in the mirror, with puffy, swollen, defeated eyes and tears streaming down my face and literally, out loud, spoke to my reflection. I willed myself to keep fighting. To keep fighting. One more breath. One more moment. One more day. That was my life. 

And now, I have built a life that is beyond what I could have imagined. The person I was in those years of torment, is never far, but she grounds me. She reminds me to be grateful. To appreciate the small, simple moments. To persevere. She is also always in physical pain, but people do not believe what they cannot see. 

Laura Stepnicka is a Chicago native who lives with two invisible illnesses: depression and chronic pain. These invisible illnesses have changed every fiber of her being and she is very aware that her conditions are part of a lifelong journey of healing and growth. A journey she has fully embraced. Laura decided in early 2021 to make several lifestyle changes and moved to a one stoplight kind of town in Southwest Michigan, nestled in her log cabin in the trees with her sweetest foster fail, Piper. More on her blog, Cocoon for the Kindred.