Lovelorn- Dealing with Dating and a Rare Disease

I always believed the day I bwas diagnosed with a rare disease, that was The day my world shifted. That was also the day, I dubbed myself unlovable. Like anyone else in the world, I yearn for a love to call my own, but the additional layer of my disease adds a level of complexity I was not prepared for.

Dating with a rare disease

I always believed that others love the way I do, deeply and intentionally. Growing older has proved that statement to be null in void.

I naively believed my self-love would inspire similar affection in others. But they didn’t. With each new chapter, the characters proved that no one may ever love the way I do. With each dismissive comment, each overlooked need, my self-worth dwindled. All while they watched me wither away from self doubt and an analytical overthinking obsession. I was constantly fretful and waiting for the show to drop.

Their casual cruelty chipped away at my soul. I became a shadow of myself, a fragile ghost haunted by doubt. I feared love, fearing rejection and the pain of exposing my vulnerabilities. The weight of my diagnosis, the fear of being a burden, made intimacy feel like a dangerous gamble. Yet I was always with dice in hand, ready to bet.

My willingness to reexpose freshly sealed wounds almost felt criminal. No matter who I am dating, love felt conditional and forced me in a corner of emotional dependency. And there lies the problem. Was it love I was pining for? Or was I trying to shroud a deeper internal conflict?

Coming out as lesbian

Yet, amidst the chaos, I found the strength to declare my truth. Coming out as a lesbian was a defiant act of self-acceptance. But it was a battle fought on many fronts. I grappled with grief, loneliness, and the relentless self-doubt that mirrored back at me.I clung to the hope that love would be my salvation. I yearned for a partner who would see beyond my illness, who would love me unconditionally. But I was searching for love in the wrong places.I was trapped in a cycle of self-sabotage, seeking validation from others instead of cultivating it within myself. I masked my pain, hiding my true self behind a facade of perfection. At the time, I fully believed that My diagnosis stole my dreams, my confidence, and my joy.

At nineteen, I faced a challenge that many adults struggle with: self-love coupled with acceptance of self. It was a daunting task, a journey into the depths of my soul. As relationships kept failing, I succumbed to the hurt instead of leaning in to the mask I was portraying. The problem all along was never my diagnosis, my personality or what I have to offer.

Self love and awareness

However, I can’t attribute the incompetence of others to my own lack of self-awareness. Understanding our interactions with others, even those with ulterior motives, can distinguish between love motivated by genuine care and love driven by selfish desires. I longed for approval, unaware that it already resided in myself. The day that I came to this realization is the day I began to fall in love with the person who matters most: me.

I refused to let my illness define me. I reclaimed my power, embracing every part of myself, the beautiful and the flawed. I learned to love the girl who struggled, the girl who fell, and the girl who rose again.True love, I discovered, wasn’t a fairytale romance; it was a profound connection with another human. It was the quiet strength to face life’s challenges, the unwavering belief in one’s worth.

Though the echoes of doubt still linger, I choose to silence them. I choose to love myself, no matter the version, no matter the diagnosis.I may have a rare disease but I refuse to let my love be defined by that.
I am hopeful, that one day I will acquire a love that mirrors the love I hold for myself.

For I know the most precious love, the balm for the soul and the hearts most potent elixir: dwells within me.