My Story: Moderate (stage 3) Osteoarthritis in both knees and a "white zone" (permanent) meniscus tear in my right knee.
It’s a phrase often tossed around casually, a verbal shrug in the face of minor inconveniences: “It is what it is.” But for anyone living with a chronic condition, especially one as pervasive and unpredictable as osteoarthritis, these five simple words transform from a casual shrug into a profound mantra of survival and, eventually, acceptance. They’ve become the quiet cornerstone of my own daily navigation through the varied levels of pain and mobility that come with this uninvited guest called OA.
My journey with osteoarthritis wasn't a sudden crash but an insidious, creeping realisation. First, the occasional stiffness, then the persistent ache, followed by the undeniable grinding and locking in my joints. The diagnosis, while validating, felt like a life sentence. In the beginning, my reaction was anything but accepting. It was frustration, anger, and a desperate yearning for the "before." I fought against the limitations, pushed through pain, and mourned the decline of a body that once moved with effortless grace.
The unpredictable nature of OA is perhaps its cruellest trick. One day, I might walk a mile with only a mild protest from my knees; the next, a short stroll to the local shop feels like scaling a mountain. The "varied levels of pain and mobility" aren't just a clinical description; they're the dizzying uncertainty of waking up not knowing which version of your body will greet you. It’s the constant renegotiation of plans, the quiet cancellations, and the slow, agonising grief for future possibilities.
It was in this relentless push and pull, this futile battle against an undeniable truth, that "it is what it is" truly began to resonate. Not as a defeatist sigh, but as a pragmatic grounding. It's not a white flag of surrender, relinquishing all hope or effort to improve; rather, it’s a firm grounding in the present reality. It means acknowledging the current state of my body without judgment or self-pity, and certainly without the exhausting resistance that once consumed so much energy.
For me, "it is what it is" means:
Listening, not Ignoring:
It means paying attention to the whispers and shouts of my joints. Some days, that means saying no to an activity I desperately want to do. Other days, it means celebrating a small victory – a longer walk, less pain after a carefully planned outing.
Pacing, not Pushing:
The old me would push until collapse. The new me understands that consistent, moderate activity is far more beneficial than sporadic bursts followed by days of recovery. "It is what it is" reminds me that my body has limits, and respecting them is an act of self-care, not weakness.
Adapting, not Despairing:
Unable to run? Then I’ll swim, paddle, or cycle. Can’t stand for long? I’ll sit to chop vegetables. My life doesn’t have to grind to a halt because my body has changed; it simply needs thoughtful adjustments. This acceptance allows creativity to flourish where rigidity once reigned.
Managing Expectations:
The pain won’t magically disappear, and my mobility will fluctuate and deteriorate in time. Accepting this truth reduces the emotional rollercoaster. There are still bad days, of course, but the anger and despair are tempered by a deeper understanding: this is today's reality.
Embracing "it is what it is" doesn't mean passively enduring; it means actively managing within the bounds of reality. It frees up energy that was once spent on lamenting and redirects it towards proactive steps, adhering to physical therapy exercises, exploring new pain management strategies, prioritising sleep, and nourishing my body. It allows me to focus on what is possible, rather than lamenting what is no longer.
This simple phrase has become my anchor in the often turbulent waters of osteoarthritis. It’s a testament to the human spirit's capacity for adaptation and resilience. While I still hope for advancements in treatment and for more good days than bad, I've learned that true peace doesn't come from fighting the unchangeable, but from acknowledging it, understanding it, and then finding a way to live fully within its parameters. Because, ultimately, it is what it is, and I am learning, day by day, to live well within that truth.
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