Going Abroad: Chronic Illness Addition

Traveling with Chronic Illness

Traveling with chronic illness is complicated. It’s beautiful, exhausting, and bittersweet all at once. On my first trip out of the country, I found myself balancing awe and pain, joy and grief — learning that even when your body feels heavy, the world can still feel light.

✈️ Traveling with Chronic Illness: The Pain, the Beauty, and Everything In Between

I recently took a trip to Europe — my first time out of the country. We went to Rome, Tuscany, Paris, and Amsterdam. On paper, it sounds like a dream. And honestly, in so many ways, it was.

But behind the photos and memories was another layer most people couldn’t see — a quiet, aching reality that comes with traveling in a body that’s unpredictable, exhausted, and in pain.

The flight alone was brutal. I felt pain in nearly every joint. My neck throbbed. My back locked up. The fatigue from the time change hit hard, and it lingered for days. Dana had to carry all my bags, help me get in and out of cars, and adjust our plans constantly depending on how my body was doing. And he did — with so much love and grace.

But it’s still hard and I’ve learned it’s ok to recognize that.

It’s hard to want so badly to be fully present in the most beautiful places — and feel like your body is working against you. It’s hard to be somewhere new and magical, and still feel like you’re missing out because your energy is gone by 2 p.m. Or because you have to sit while everyone else is walking. Or because you just don’t feel like yourself anymore.

There were moments where I looked around and thought,

“I wish my body still worked the way it used to.”

I miss being able to carry my own suitcase.

To wake up energized.

To explore without needing to calculate every step or plan my day around pain.

But even through the discomfort, the fatigue, and the quiet grief… I leaned into joy.

Because it was still there.

In the food. In the sunsets. In the quiet mornings with coffee. In watching Dana experience new places with me. In simply being able to go — even if it didn’t look the way I imagined.

This trip reminded me that even with chronic illness, beauty is still possible.

Joy is still possible.

Adventure is still possible.

I might not travel the way others do — but I travel.

And that, to me, is worth celebrating.