The last month has been rough. I picked up a chest infection at an event I attended 4 weeks ago thanks to some careless twat. Thought I got over it. Anibiotics the size of horse pills and the whole coughing up primordial slime shebang. I was on the end of it when I went out again, this time got a sinus bug on top, and it gave the chest infection the leg back up it needed. This time around, with the weather changes that have happened, I feel like the walking dead. I can’t remember being in a worse state this year, and it’s taken it’s toll.
Today I hit my breaking point. Today I was sick of being dishonest and constantly bullshitting everyone with how bad things have been. In a fit of god-knows-what, I made a post with a unfiltered pic of myself – straight out of bed – which I can’t share for privacy/anonymity reasons.
I feel that this may be relevant to people who are likewise suffering and need some solidarity in their fight. Today, I’m with you guys.
Today, this is Abi. This is the real Abi.
So often I am the Abi that laughs at life and herself to get her through the day. I am the woman that tells herself she is strong and genuinely tries to avoid talking about her problems so she keeps the friends she has and doesn’t become a burden. I am the Abi that will get up despite the pain and make or do something through gritted teeth just to tell myself that I’m not useless today. I am the version of me that does my best to listen to other people when they need a friend, setting my own needs aside. I am the one that downplays the effect my chronic sicknesses have on me with “I’m not the best” or “things are a bit poo” when I feel like I am dying. I am the one that goes to pains to not “look sick”, will dress up, wash my face and forego the mobility scooter and cane and wheelchair so I look like everyone else. I am the Abi that will stick it out to the eleventh hour while out of the house with friends, because I want to pretend everything is fine and just be *normal* again.
Today is a breaking point.
Today I am sick, and I have been literally my whole life. Imagine that. Think back as far as your memories go and try to imagine the pervasive feeling of pain somewhere in every single one of those precious childhood moments. Imagine them following you through to highschool and being terrified of being teased for using a cane, so you sucked it up and went without, and pushed your body further on your good days to make up for it. Imagine it as you try to find your first job, sitting like a knot in your throat, a whisper behind your ear. A dirty little secret. Because young people don’t get sick.
And just when you thought you knew the beast, it brought you to your knees. It broke you and you had nobody that understood the /scope/of agony you were dealing with, so you learned to keep quiet. First to friends. Then to family. Eventually to partners and doctors and specialists. Because young people don’t get sick. You were attention seeking. A drama queen. An attention whore. Desperate to simply find an echo of understanding in the world and the answer to the question “why?”
Why me? What did I do? Was there a reason I was chosen for this? Will I die with this pain?
IS THERE A REASON?!
But the answer is almost always silence. From family who buy your facade. From friends who don’t know how to accomodate. From partners who don’t know how to cope. From specialists who lack funding. From that little voice of self inside.
It’s always silence.
Today I am not being silent. This is me. This is that same Abi you all know. The one that laughs at fart jokes. The one that bends over backwards to help people and downplays it because she can’t handle praise. This is the Valkyrie. The gamer. The artist and lover and fighter. I am the Abi that cries in her room from uncontrolled pain. I am the Abi that is too ashamed to talk about her pain for fear of rejection. I am the Abi that has given up so many things she loves because of her health. I am the Abi that has lost friendships, lovers and opportunities because of something I can’t directly control. I am the Abi that goes to sleep with anxiety and wakes with the crushing reality of “this is what today is going to be like”. I am the Abi that has been torn up inside because I have had the very real choice of doing something I want and ending up in hospital, or staying home in my room and being safe due to the stresses going out puts on my body. I am the Abi that feels defective, lonely and useless when friends respond with “Oh, I heard you weren’t well so I figured I would leave you be” like there would be a time when I somehow was well again. And today I am not well, and I haven’t been for a very long time.
But if you’ve read this and understood just one sentence, one line, and have learned something, decided that you want to know the me without the smile, the 4am blogger, the swearing, hot mess, I might just be okay.
Today has been exhausting. Tomorrow is another day.