Josie Cressler

I Had to Quit Sports Because of Chronic Illness But it Didn’t Matter Because I Wasn’t Very Good

Volume 5:

Let’s talk about having a concussion and not “looking athletic.”

(Not being a cis man makes you automatically look less athletic in the eyes of society too, I think.)

I’ve had amazing PTs who I felt same and comfortable with. And yet ...

(At least before the POTS diagnosis) it was always ...

[Drawing of a person sitting on a medical table talking to a physical therapist. The PT says “we’re gonna get you back to frisbee.”]

Which was great because if I could play FRISBEE I could do anything!

(Meanwhile, feeling the imposter syndrome of “I don't look like I play sports and I’m not good at them so why does that matter?)

FRISBEE as a goal never resonated with me. Perhaps because of the imposter syndrome or

perhaps because it was never really about that. I would say things like ...

[Drawing of a person sitting on a medical table saying “I just want to be able to do the dishes” and “I just want to dance at a party.”]

And I would get a sympathetic, but kind of blank look.

[Drawing of physical therapist looking sympathetic but kind of blank.]

I didn’t feel that bad about it, but it was weird. Like, is it confusing that doing regular mundane life things would be more important to me than frisbee?

It helps when I’m open with them about where I’m coming from.

[Drawing of person sitting on medical table saying to PT “I don't really care about frisbee right now. I want to focus on on one thing at a time, and first I want to be able to do household chores without needing to sit down every five minutes.” The PT says “makes sense.”]

They are just people who want to help, after all. It’s not their fault they’re given a script that doesn’t work for everyone.

I Had to Quit Sports Because of Chronic Illness But it Didn’t Matter Because I Wasn’t Very Good

Volume 6:

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TALK TO DOCTORS.

I have a lot of medical anxiety.

[Drawing of a person looking anxious].

It’s partly because anything wrong could be a much bigger deal for me than most people.

And partly, because, for years, I knew something was off about my body and no one could find it.

[Drawing of a person saying “my chest hurts and I’m dizzy. I think something is wrong.”

Someone off the page says “we ran these tests. You’re fine.” The person thinks “I can feel in my body that something is wrong. Maybe they’ll miss it and I’ll DIE.”]

I was right all along. Not that I was dying, but that something was wrong. It’s scary to think that could happen again.

But I also think it’s something deeper than that. I did a project in college on Zoe Leonard’s sculpture, Strange Fruit.

[Drawing of an orange and a banana sewn back together].

She made it during the AIDS crisis, sewing fruit pieces back together.

It’s about repairing “bodies” viewed as disposable and about having them decompose in public view, not hidden. She was playing with what it meant to put them in a place (museum) meant to immortalize. Leonard experienced extreme frustration working with museums that didn’t understand how to display her piece. How do you preserve something not meant to be preserved?

Institutions, like museums and hospitals, are too invested in progress and permanence (read: white supremacy, capitalism, patriarchy) to be sites of care for changing, decomposing bodies. Similarly, though it’s nice to get medications that help you feel better, when hospitals are so wrapped up in ideas of “progress” ... it makes me, with a chronic illness, sometimes feel illegible.

I Had to Quit Sports Because of Chronic Illness But it Didn’t Matter Because I Wasn’t Very Good

Volume 7:

On the internet, there are inspirational videos of people who go from barely being able to walk and then, after hard work, they make PROGRESS, and then they run a marathon.

[Drawing of someone crossing the finish line in a marathon race.]

That is really exciting for these individuals. But, if I’m being honest, I find videos like this frustrating and degrading.

I don't want to run a marathon!

[Drawing of a person with hands to their face looking exasperated.]

What I mean is: I just want to be normal. I just want to be able to do normal, every-day things.

Why can’t that be a thing to celebrate?

What I really mean is: there is no normal. Sure, I want to feel good in my body and I want to have freedom of movement. I want those things very much.

But what I really want is to be cared for, to feel valued, to be seen for my full self - no matter what my body feels like or what it’s able to do.

Despite a society that places the worth of a person on their progress and productivity.

It’s liberating to realize that this is what I want. I might never be able to run a marathon, but this is something I can actually work toward.

I Had to Quit Sports Because of Chronic Illness But it Didn’t Matter Because I Wasn’t Very Good

Volume 8:

My head just hurts all the time.

[Drawing of a person with their hand to a red cloud around their head].

It constantly underlies everything I do.

[Drawing of two people sitting together having tea. One person says “this is fun!” while also thinking “wish my head didn’t hurt, though.”]

And I am constantly having to account for what might make it worse.

[Drawing of a person surrounded by thought bubbles. The thought bubbles say:

“if I want to go to the grocery store later, I can’t unload the dishwasher now or it will be too much;”

“I’ll have to propose an alternative plan to the museum, that’s too much walking;”

“I have to shower tonight because showers make me feel sick and I have plans the next two nights;”

“I have to bring a lot of small bags for groceries so none of them are too heavy for me;” and

“I need to make sure there’s parking nearby or else I’ll have to arrange a ride.”]

My head is so full of calculating, wishing, building analyses, accepting ... it’s exhausting.

[Drawing of a person lying down and looking tired.]

At the end of the day, I’m just a GIRLIE, doing my best.

It helps that I look sexy and feel loved while doing it.

[Drawing of a person looking happy, wearing earplugs, holding an electrolyte drink, wearing compression stockings, and surrounded by rainbow hearts.]