OPINION: Coping with invisible illnesses - 'I am you - and I'm still me'

My name is Emarie Qantaqua and I recently moved to Columbia Falls. Oct. 1 is Ostomy and Invisible Illness Awareness Day — and I wanted to introduce myself and others like myself.

I’ve been trying to learn how to be part of a community, but see … I don’t really know how. Not anymore. Because, see, I’m sick. Maybe you’ve seen me around. I didn’t have hair a few months ago, but it is growing back! I’m so thin, but I try so hard to put on weight … sometimes I think it is a job (I’d probably be fired by now).

Sometimes I have braces on my leg(s). Sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I am standing next to you at the grocery (on the days I’m not stuck on the couch) — and I have to remember not to throw up, smile, and don’t let anyone on to the fact that I am concentrating so hard on not passing out. I have to consider if my ostomy bag needs attention while I’m out and about (THIS REALLY IS ME).

But I am you — and I’m still me.

I want to be part of this community as much as I can. I want to get to know you. I want to be a part of this.

I’m a mom.

I’m a wife.

Sometimes I can clean the whole house. Sometimes I can’t clean up after myself at all.

Sometimes I can’t go out. Sometimes I can. Sometimes I go out when I shouldn’t to prove that I can still be a part of this life.

I’m a good friend (although admittedly, very few people stay friends with “the sick girl”). But it’s OK. I understand. I’m not JUST like you. But I AM. I really am.

I want a safe place for our kids to grow up.

I go to the local farmers markets and community events.

I doubt myself about if I’m really doing this parenting thing right.

I’m so laid-back. Sometimes a homebody. OK — I stay in my house so much of the time.

I’m a photographer.

I’m an artist.

I’ve lived all over the United States to return to Montana and settle down.

I’ve been judged. I judge myself.

I’m 35.

I’m 48.

I’m 20.

I’m 13.

I’m 42.

I’m 57.

I’m 19.

I’m 81.

I have an invisible illness — sometimes it takes everything I have in me for everything you see in who I am. Sometimes I won’t let you see it. But we are out here — a lot of us — just trying to make it through another day with an invisible illness.

I’m your neighbor.

And THANK YOU for letting me introduce myself — and my family — to the community and region. And THANK YOU … because the next time you see me out and about … you know that I’m just like you. Stop by and say HI! (I won’t bite!)

Emarie Qantaqua, of Columbia Falls, has an ileostomy and multiple chronic and invisible illnesses.