Posted by I found my grad school acceptance email in my spam folder. At this point I had received rejections from almost every place I had applied to, and had mentally resigned myself to not go at all, or do it in Germany. After I had asked several of my friends to read it, I allowed myself to be ecstatic.
Then came the cold shower in form of my roommate. When I told them the news, they looked at me and said, “you won’t be able to do it. It’s too much for you.” It wasn’t even cruel — just casual, like they were stating the weather.
Thankfully, they were in the minority, my family, always my biggest cheerleaders, supported my decision, they always had, and always will have my back. But I realized, that chronic illness means constantly bumping up against people’s lowered expectations, their surprise (or perhaps envy?) when you succeed, their skepicism when you try. And that can sometimes have the negative effect that you stop believing in yourself. But, I have always been ambitious, not despite my illness, not to “show them,” but with it. Alongside it.
What even is ambition anyways?
For a lot of us, ambition means throwing yourself into the capitalist culture of business, hustle culture, the 80 hour, no sleep, five-year plans, climbing up some sort of metaphorical ladder (in my case publication and tenure). And I like working, I have a strong sense of duty. But I found out the hard way, that chasing hustle culture didn’t work for me. And it doesn’t work for a whole lot of other people, whether they admit it or not.
Ambition can be fulfilled in different ways. It may not be staying up all night to finish your book chapter, but instead create a sustainable writing schedule. It can be scheduling your infusion towards the weekend, so you can actually rest. It means resting on purpose, because the next day there is an event I want/have to attend. To me it is adapting to a version of me that still wants more, but in a way that it doesn’t come back to bite me. I want to stay true to myself, who I want to be, even if that vision has to sometimes bend and shift around the unpredictability of my disease. I want to be the best version of myself that I can be on that very specific day.
This all sounds nice and good, but it is by no means easy. Living with ambition and illness at the same time often feels like trying to write in two languages — and one of them keeps changing the rules. In grad school, I had to take two incompletes (that other than me, everyone probably has forgotten about), I needed extensions for deadlines. When I taught summer school, I had to text my class and tell them that we’d meet ten minutes later. The reason? I was emptying my bowels and didn’t think I could get up any time soon. For a long time, I joked about my love of naps, conveniently omitting that they were a result of my low iron levels.
Reframing Ambition
As mentioned above, I tried to outperform and/or ignore my illness to be taken seriously. That getting that MA, getting that Phd, getting that first job proved that I was still an ambitious scholar, going places. And I did go places, to the hospital, among others. But maybe, just like healing isn’t linear, ambition and drive is not necessarily a constant forward motion. Ambition may be discernment, asking oneself- do I need to do this just to prove myself? Is the recognition of these people worth it? Saying no to activities that will burn you out, so that you can look good for five minutes.
My energy, and the older I get, my patience, it finite. I don’t want to chase every shiny opportunity, and I try to choose what aligns with me, my values, and the life I actually want.
Ambition to me, isn’t about doing more than others anymore, but about staying true to my values, even when your body makes it difficult.
But I also want to be clear: this isn’t some feel-good manifesto where redefining ambition, coupled with a few affirmations in the morning magically fixes everything. There are days when I’d love to follow my body’s pace — but I have to teach, or meet a deadline, or fill out another insurance form just to get the meds that keep me functional. Bills don’t wait for flares. Care obligations don’t vanish when I’m in pain.
Ambition on my terms
Ambition, in this context, isn’t about luxury — it’s about survival with intention. It’s about holding onto something of yourself, even when systems aren’t built for your body. It’s about refusing to let exhaustion be the only measure of effort or success.
So yes, I still call myself ambitious. But if that’s slower, softer, or messier than I imagined — so be it.
I wish I could offer a master-plan, or a to-do list on how to be ambitious and successful, but I don’t do the whole girl-boss shit. I keep a color-coded calendar, where I block out times, something I had to learn to be realistic about. I still make lists, but now I add “soft goals” and flexible deadlines. I build in buffer time for medical stuff or flares — and if I don’t need it, that’s a win. I make sure I have a heating pad in every room. I set alarms for taking my meds.
It helps, still sometimes I am behind with things. But, as with many things in life, it’s maybe not all about speed, but continuity instead.
The Morbus Crohnicles 