Chronic Illness

 Having a chronic illness is:

1. Have symptoms
2. Ignore them for years/not realise there's a name for what you go through
3. Have most medical professionals ignore/dismiss/gaslight you about your symptoms
4. Discover there IS a name for your Thing and advocate for diagnosis
5. Spend actual years jumping through ALL THE HOOPS and finally get diagnosed
6. Move on with life because, other than diagnosis, those medical professionals offer no help, advice, support, or signposting
7. Experience specific problems relating to your diagnosis
8. Research how to deal with said symptoms
9. Find recommendations online
10. Introduce those new ideas
11. Exacerbate something else entirely and, not only be unable to fix the initial problem, but give yourself another symptom (or three)
12. Realise that the new ideas you found are for typical bodies and you are a Zebra, not a horse
13. Get angry and buy a bunch of books on your condition in the hopes that they help
14. Repeat steps 7-11/12 ad nauseum

 

I have begun a routine of going outside every morning while the machine makes my coffee. 

On mornings like today, I wake up earlier than I would like but I am then rewarded with views like this. 

I greet the sky and the trees, say "hello" to the stars when they're there to meet me. 

I say "I love you" to the moon when I am graced by its presence. 

I thank the Universe, broadly, for too many things to list, open-ended gratitude. 

I stand and stretch and take several deep breaths of the fresh air. 

As I head back inside, I pause to thank my home. She has a name. A name that only I know. 

I then begin my day. 

 Now that my life - again - looks wildly different to what it did just months ago, I find myself - again - wondering where this blog fits into the whole scheme of things. 

I am compelled to write, I am compelled to share, but as my writings are now split between fiction and non-, I wonder if it's time to also split my posts ... to have different blogs dedicated to different things.

And then I struggle with indecision because the non-fiction I want to write about is extremely personal and I am debating writing entirely under a pseudonym for those works because they're about my life, my childhood, my traumas at the hands of others. 

Some of those people are long gone but some of them are still very much alive. 

I imagine the ones who are still alive would take some not insignificant offense to having their actions revealed to the vast number of one (1) persons who read(s) this blog ... and this is something I debate almost-constantly and what holds back a lot of my writing ... I'm kind of waiting for the remaining players in this saga to pass before I write my story ...

But that isn't "fair" to me, to the story inside my brain, inside my very cells that is crying out to be told, to be released, to be known. 

So, the questions I ask myself are: 

• Would I start an entirely new blog and literally not tell anyone that it's there? 
• Do I not blog about that side of my writing at all and just hope that it's published someday? 
• Or do I say "eff you all" and start peppering my non-fiction writings in here, too, offense-causing be damned?! 

It is said that if you wish for nice things to be said about you, you should do nice things in life. The people I am trying to ... protect(?) did some very not-nice things but I don't believe them to be entirely "bad" people. They, too, are borne of trauma and assaults of various kinds but, for myriad reasons, have been unable and/or unwilling to break the cycles in which they have found themselves. (Some don't even understand there are cycles.)

And what if the person I'm most desperately trying to protect is myself? What if the reason I haven't been able to write my truth while my abusers are still alive is because I know they will come for me (Proverbially and largely digitally. Physically, I am very safe.)

But the story still begs to be told. Hence the dilemma. 

I guess the real purpose of this post isn't to find the answer to any of these (and more) questions, but rather to get my teeth back into writing and sharing because I have to start somewhere, right?

Right.

Run.

 Flash fiction self-challenge. Prompt = “Run.”

"Run." 

As soon as he heard the word, his body jerked softly, adrenaline kicking in instantly, held in check only by conscious effort. The more basic, primal part of his brain chafed, desperate to obey the instruction but he stood his ground. 

"I refuse.” He squared his shoulders, lifting his chin and glaring down his nose. 

"Fool." 

He laughed "The fool is one who is afraid of the likes of you." He glanced again, arrogant, defiant, sure. He shrugged. 

"You should run." 

His face straightened, the look of amusement disappearing, replaced by sharp annoyance. "You are nothing of import. I am in charge here. I give commands. I do not obey. I will not run" 

"Then die." 

As the next wave crashed into him, the sand shifting beneath his feet, launching him face down in the craggy rocks of the shore, he finally did obey.

The chasm of the selves

 That lost, detached, adrift feeling you get when the foundation upon which you relied for certain truths reveals itself to be significantly less structurally-sound than had long been presumed.

How does one honour their own truth and yet simultaneously keep the promises made to never destroy another?

R E S P E C T

To whom this very much concerns, 

I will be fine.

That's something you need to not only know but to comprehend: to fully, wholly, and in all other ways ... to know… I. will. be. fine. 

You have chosen me as your pariah, your outcast, the target of your distaste, your rage, your ire, your judgement, your inner-pain, your insecurities. You have made it more and more obvious over the years that we've known each other. 

You're spending less and less energy in attempting to hide your obvious contempt, the disgust you feel toward me. 

Deliberately manipulating events to ensure my exclusion is one thing but when you make it clear, beyond any remote chance of confusion, that your own entertainment is more important than my life, you have decided and made it known to me, to everyone involved, that you are literally willing to risk my actual life instead of making a small, relatively simple change that wouldn't negatively impact anything or anyone.

And you know what? 

I'll be fine. 

I have survived magnitudes worse than you…

and I have thrived. 

My “favourite” part is that, in spite of everything, you have now asked a favour of me. 

Except, we both know it’s not a favour, don't we? 

We both know there will be no reciprocity in this - or anything we share. There never has been and there never will be because you. do. not. respect me. 

I give and you take. You ask and I give and you take. You expect and I give and you take. 

And, as much as I will actually enjoy doing this most-recent “favour”, as I have every time I've performed it in the past, it will be the last “favour” I do for you. 

I accept that you do not respect me but let me make this perfectly clear here:

I. Respect. Me. 

I cannot control how you feel about me. I cannot control what you say about me. 

I control who has use of me and you ... you are not worthy of such a lofty privilege.

I am through letting you use me. I am through enabling you your blatant disrespect of me.

Sincerely, 

Over it and over you. 

A week in the life …

 Monday

An allergic (thankfully, mild!) reaction when “oat milk” unexpectedly contains pea protein. 

Gorgeous local plant life. 

“I’ll draw the monster’s head, Grandma will draw its body, and you draw the monster from the body down!”

Tuesday

Craft time: Celebrating messes. 

Hot chocolate o’clock. Firm family favourite.

With a pampering mani-pedi, it was a good afternoon, indeed!

Wednesday

Headed to the spa to be marinaded and tenderised. 

Tenderising interrupted by a team member needing emergency help. 

Thursday

Back again for a scan and the results (which came 4 hours later). 

Potentially-lethal cross-contamination / why it’s beneficial to get to lunch early. 

More gorgeous local plant life. 

Unwinding with “adult” beverages like the teenagers at heart that we are. (Glass contains Archers and lemonade.)

Any day with glitter is a good day.

Friday

Heading home today, sky matching the overall mood.

Saturday

Unfortunately, it was my turn. 

Being severely allergic to milk, choosing “vegan” menu options isn’t necessarily the best choice when you’re even more allergic to peas. Oops. (See also: Monday, above.)