“You’re Going to Figure It Out Like You Always Do”: Parenting Through Chronic Illness

Posted on by kenconcini

I want to believe I’ll be okay—I have to.

More honesty. . . my health (& my body) weighs heavily—pun intended—on my emotional well-being. When I talk about depressive episodes, my deepest clouds, I’m talking about days where I woke up with a chronic illness flare-up.

These morning begin with self-doubt questions: Did my body digest—or not digest—what I ate? Is it reacting to yesterday’s choices? Did I make wrong choices? How do I process are they mistakes or the frustrating impacts of things I just can’t control?

These clouds have been the hardest over the last year.

& while I remind myself self-love & that my children are my sunshine, there are moments when their needs feel overwhelming & add to the storm—

My autoimmune issues affect my ability to regulate emotions with them. When they ask me to run, play, or cook, & I can’t focus, I feel a painful disconnect. A loss in identity. These are the moments when my chronic illness most deeply impacts parenting & I have to whisper to myself tips.

Tips I’ve learned in these moments:

  • Pause & Breathe: Taking just a few slow breaths before responding can help me reconnect emotionally. I’ve learned I do this best while taking a slow walk with my family—moving gently beside them, letting my breath & steps fall into rhythm, until I feel myself come back into connection.
  • Communicate Honestly: Sometimes I’ll tell my kids, “Mom is having a rough morning. Can I take a minute before I join you?” Then I sip my coffee in silence, letting myself process. It’s a small pause, but it shows them that needing space is okay.
  • Choose Small Wins: Presence doesn’t have to mean doing it all. It’s the quiet victories no one else sees: going to my support group, admitting I wanted to slip back into old stress-relief behaviors, but choosing instead to stay on my recovery path. Those wins may feel small, but they carry me forward.
  • Prep Low-Effort Activities: having easy snacks, simple games, or coloring pages ready lets me engage without overextending.
  • Distract with Purpose: Sometimes the best way to move through a heavy moment is to shift my focus. Writing blogs, working on my next book, or even answering Threads gives me a healthy distraction. It’s not about avoiding my feelings, it’s about creating space so I don’t get lost in them.

The Shadows of My Childhood

You may have read, I grew up intensely bullied.

(I wonder if anyone from my childhood will ever see this—& if they do… hey, you were the meanest!)

Even my therapist once gave me a “wow” as I unpacked some of those memories. Like one about a group of students who made a “documentary” on me, pointing out every so-called flaw—my clothes, my weight, my hair, my lunches. I wasn’t okay with myself then. & I’ve been forever working hard on acceptance, confidence, & self-love. 

Healing isn’t always linear.

I’ve celebrated my body before—feeling beautiful in my wedding dress, proud after running races with my husband, exhausted but happy after all-day volleyball tournaments, even proud growing two creatures with my dysfunctional body.

But lately, this new diagnosis of an autoimmune issue has changed my life & created an inability to celebrate. Suddenly, normal life feels impossible. Fatigue, brain fog, cramping, pain, chills, & bloating are rotating companions.

Recently, I’ve ‘lost myself’ due to dying glands & medication reactions. I’ve gained weight, lost strength, gone to bed earlier, & had to shorten or let go of favorite activities. Adrenaline is my enemy. Food is my fear.

I face & navigate new approaches to workouts, nutrition, &…even fun—all while still wondering how to enjoy it alongside my kids, when my body feels off.

Even last night, Alma attempted to share her ice cream with me & was so hurt when I couldn’t take a bite. In my head I chastised myself screaming, “just take one friggin’ bite”, but my mind stopped me because it feared so deeply the flare up to follow.

Showing Up in Small Ways

As I struggle with this reality—I find myself constantly adding new layers. This week’s challenge: preparing for a book cover photo & author photo when I don’t feel like I look like myself. 

I wrestled hard with the memory I could create.

I could take the photos now & forever remember a personal darkness I pushed through—or I could wait until the flare subsided & change our plans for the day, to much dismay of the kids & myself having to admit internal struggles won & I couldn’t see anything positive about myself.

Compromise. I decided to go to the beach, take the photos, & decide later.

But in the end, my decision didn’t matter. We got to the beach & it was filled with intense sun….& lantern flies. Even while squinting, the kids were able to see the swarms & lost their minds.

“Mommy, unalive it.”

I attempted photos. The moment felt so chaotic & stressful. I kept telling Matt, “Ugh, I didn’t even want to be here- this is a sign, let’s call it.”

They were unusable shots, but not because of any choice I made.

Yoga Move: Lantern Shoo

As I drove home, scanning through them, I wondered: if we hadn’t been squinting, if the kids hadn’t been screaming, would these have turned out? Would I have been strong enough to be less self-critical, to see the sunny beach day my kids were enjoying, beyond my flareup & simply handle it?

This blog post is my answer: yes.

look at Max scoping out if it will move again or not

Showing up for my kids doesn’t always mean doing it all—

These moments—even when imperfect—are the ones that truly matter. Maybe I can’t see that in the moment, but eventually, I can see how it still holds meaning.

It’s okay. It takes time to connect body & mind, to feel in sync, & to let presence shine through.

if in the end, the cloud takes over…

Resources and Support for Parents Navigating Chronic Illness & Mental Health:

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