Tag Archives: Meredith College

“An Invisible Disease” – my TEDx talk

In September, I had the honor and privilege of giving a TEDx talk just two weeks after my father died from Ankylosing Spondylitis, a disease I inherited from him. I am so grateful for having this platform to share via the Sacramento TEDx Changemakers series.

I hope you’ll watch and share this video to raise awareness about living with chronic illness, but I also hope you’ll take something away for your own journey.

Click here to watch the 8-minute video:

An Invisible Disease : Charis Hill : Sacramento TEDx Salon


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What Mom Thinks About Me Being Sick

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Mother, Caroline, and Daughter, Charis, at Meredith College circa 1989. Charis is wearing the first dress she ever picked out.

I have ankylosing spondylitis and several mental health issues. I asked my mother some questions about them impacting my life. Here’s what she had to say:

What was I like as a child?

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Charis building muscles at a young age

You were always physically active – as a baby, stretching and leaning toward what you liked/wanted.  You enjoyed crawling, walking, later bicycling.  I enjoyed watching you do backbends and cartwheels at about ages 6-10.  You wanted to be scored – 1-10 – as though in the Olympics.  You loved kittens and puppies.  You enjoyed holding them and carrying them around.  You were inquisitive.  You were very shy as a toddler, often hiding behind my skirts or my legs so you would not have to talk to people who addressed you.  You enjoyed spending time with people of all ages as you became an older child.  You became friends with adults and enjoyed learning new things such as tennis and fishing from your grandparents.  I had come to believe that “it takes a village to raise a child”, so I encouraged your independence in going alone by bicycle into our village and forming many relationships with nurturing adults there.  I allowed and encouraged you to be outspoken to the point of some thinking you were “too sassy”, but I believed that as a female in this society, you would need to be able to speak up and take care of yourself as you grew up.  There could easily be a book about how you were as a child, so this will have to be an incomplete capsule.

Do we have any similar quirks that you have noticed/ Do you think these quirks are the result of nature or nurture? Continue reading What Mom Thinks About Me Being Sick

I Was Always Going To Be Healthy, Strong, and Able. Then Arthritis Happened.

When I was a child I got into everything. I mean, everything. At least, everything kids get into when they live in southern rural America in the early ’90s (except somehow I skipped the drugs and wild parties). I climbed trees, I played in ditches and mud, I “planted” corn in the fields behind my house from kernels stuck on the left-behind harvested ears. I helped my mother and grandparents in their vegetable gardens. Three channels on our television set meant I watched Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, Sesame Street, The Simpsons, Star Trek, and cheesily-dubbed Godzilla vs King Kong movies with my brother.  I ran around shirtless in a community of less than 900 residents until I was at least 10, then I became known for speeding along on my bicycle to go cut grass or shelve bolts at the neighborhood hardware store. I swam in the streets when they flooded during hurricanes. I was and am still weird – not cut from the same fiber. But that’s rural America for you. And I loved it.

In elementary school I played basketball and began running in road races with my mother. In middle school I played volleyball, softball, and soccer too, along with band.

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Charis, third from left. Pamlico County High School soccer team. Circa 2004

In high school I ran track and cross country, played soccer, and briefly, basketball. I played alto saxophone and was drum major in band. I acted in school plays. I was awarded MVP and Most Athletic and other athletic and academic honors. I became one of the primary care-givers for my grandmother; I fed her, dressed her, cleaned her, talked with her, and moved her from her recliner into bed most nights.

Throughout my early education, I was also heavily involved in church activities and church youth events. During summers I held part-time jobs in local businesses on top of freelance gigs: cutting grass, babysitting, washing windows, and tackling hurricane clean-ups.

College was just as busy. I played on the soccer team and became a co-captain my senior year. I worked half-time in two campus jobs and remained active in church. I dated a couple people. I studied abroad in South Africa and bungee-jumped from the highest commercial bungee in the world. Each semester included a full course load. I participated actively in multiple clubs, often leading fundraising campaigns for them. On Earth Day I wore dresses crafted from paper I found in the recycling bin.  I was awarded a Community Achievement Award and other academic and involvement honors.

I graduated Magna Cum Laude, and the day after graduation (Mother’s Day 2009) began my first professional career as a job coach – I helped people with disabilities obtain gainful employment, then acted as a liaison between them and their coworkers and employers. I dated more people. I began a community garden in my apartment community. I led a youth group at church. When I got burnt out after two years from my first professional job, I became a professional mover and called it my Sabbatical From Thinking while I lifted heavy furniture and became the most muscular I have ever been.

I loved it.
Continue reading I Was Always Going To Be Healthy, Strong, and Able. Then Arthritis Happened.

My Struggle With Three Simple Words

How are you?

Just three words.

Just three words silence my voice but incubate my thoughts.

The responses I want to give get caught in my throat as I open my mouth to speak; I gag wordlessly without any outward signs of panic; I feel a glass wall erect itself to support and contain my stoicism while I suffocate.

The words I want to use expand in my chest like air being pushed into an empty balloon, threatening to leak out of my mouth in a jumble of hot air and exhaustion.

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Usually I manage to push aside the wordlump in my throat so I can still breathe and respond in a socially acceptable way. I say polite things, or I say I’m not ok and try to change the subject.

Or I stand there awkwardly, ashamed and lime-lighted, drowning in my reality until I realize someone is waiting for my next move. Continue reading My Struggle With Three Simple Words