I’ve often marveled at how forgetful we humans are, especially when it comes to the things we know help us feel our best. Eat nourishing foods. Move our bodies. Stay connected to loved ones. Get enough sleep. And if you’re like me, someone who’s juggled chronic anemia most of her life, you also know: take your iron supplement.
And yet, almost every time I start to feel good, I get annoyed that I still have to take that little pill. Every. Single. Day. I eat well. I do all the “right” things. But no matter what, if I stop taking the supplement that supports me, I slowly start to feel “off.” A little more tired. A little less like myself. And then, like clockwork, my husband gently asks from a place of true compassion, “Have you been taking your iron?”
Cue the pattern:
- I get irritated that he’s checking in.
- He gets frustrated that I’m irritated.
- I dig in, insisting I know what I need.
- He backs off.
- I feel worse.
- Eventually, I feel bad enough that I recognize I need to start taking the supplement again—followed by the inevitable, “You were right…”
I know many of us who have chronic conditions feel that push. We want to ignore the condition, and just be “normal.” And so we try on our own, without our prescribed aids. Unfortunately, that rarely works out for us.
It’s a dance. A very human one. And it’s not really about iron. It’s about our patterns—the ones we fall into as individuals, and the ones that play out in our relationships.
It’s about being human. About how easy it is to repeat familiar responses, even when we know better. How vulnerability can show up in small, everyday choices. And how often the people closest to us reflect what we’re not quite ready to face in ourselves.
Resilience isn’t just for big, life-changing moments. It lives in the quiet spaces where we choose to pause instead of react. Where we soften instead of resist. Where we let someone care for us, even when we wish we didn’t need the help. It’s the gentle shift that says, maybe this time, I’ll do it differently.
That’s where growth happens. Not in getting it perfect, but in the practice of noticing, resetting, and trying again—with grace for ourselves and each other.
Warmly,
Kristie and the Dovetail Team
P.S. I’m under the care of a doctor for this condition—please consult yours if you’re navigating anything similar.