Finding the label "chronically ill" like so many of my other coming home labels came with a sense of relief, a sense of explanation, a sense of forgiveness and self-compassion, but also a lot of loss, a lot of anger, frustration, depression, anxiety, and resentment at my lack of resources, at my relentlessly difficult life, at my failing body, and at the systems that make it so hard for me to survive, let alone thrive. But then came the sacred art of rest, an ever deepening relationship to myself, a very natural weeding out of people who can't muster empathy, a kind of freedom.