The internet and chronic illness are best friends and arch enemies. It’s brilliant if despite your illness, you have the steam left to be a warrior and an inspiration to sick people everywhere. It’s great when you have the gusto to post all about how you are grateful for what you do have, maybe even a photo of an amazing super food salad you cooked up and rescue dogs. It’s brilliant when you can prattle on for hours about the benefits of paleo, vegan, and organic, raw foods and how aloe gel gets you through the day. It’s juuuust great.
My reality of being sick isn’t worthy of a meme…
Yes, I’m a bit cynical about this, can you tell? Only because I wish I could be that person. I can’t right now. Right now I’m doing really well if I have a shower and manage not to act like a depressed, crazy, sore person making lists about why I should/shouldn’t kill myself. Do you know what’s worse than being judged for putting on weight, being off work, not doing your hair or make up and being a complete flake when it comes to social plans? Being judged for not being positive enough by someone with no freakin’ idea about what I deal with every day – because everyone has a sick friend who manages to pull a sunset meme out of their ass every week or two.
I have the most amazing family, partner, friends and colleagues in the world but they don’t make me want to rip my hair out, smash the fruit bowl on the floor and scream about wanting to die because I can’t take it any more. When I speak to them, I tell them about the nice things. But the nice things don’t consume my every thought, and so the bad ones tend to creep out so that I can vent some rage and save myself a shred of sanity. Today I have mostly thought about how I’d really, really like to pluck my eyebrows (it might now actually be correctly defined as “eyebrow” – singular!) before my boyfriend’s sister visits at the weekend but my hands feel like they have been run over by a tank just now. I’d also like to put away the clean washing but whenever I’m up and about I feel faint, disorientated and a bit sick. On top of the guy upstairs taking ten entire days to move in, slamming every door and pounding on my ceiling with every box until 1am… I AM GOING FUCKING INSANE AND HE MUST LIVE IN A FUCKING FORT!
So, I’m really sorry that I don’t have a salad to show you. Or a meme. I don’t have some aloe gel to sell you or some edamame beans in my hypothetical salad. But I did manage to shower today and I do have a pretty kick ass (and clean) t-shirt on and that will do for me.
Rick (walking dead) love ❤
It’s okay not to be a walking, talking sunset meme. I’m inspired by anyone who puts up with this pain bullshit every day and doesn’t check out of life