I am 35 and I am sick. My head hurts, my body hurts, I can’t eat most days and would do almost anything for a good nights sleep.
I used to see my father and grandfather walking like old Jews and would laugh, now I have to laugh at the fact that I too walk like an old Jew.
I have a medicine cabinets a small shop in Mexico would die for. It has everything I need to make “make me well,” but the side effects make me ill.
What I have is not making me die any quicker than I already am. I have BPD with depression, and anxiety, and chronic pain caused by fibromyalgia and a mysterious disease.
But people do die from my dis-ease, it’s called suicide, and we even have survivors. I am going to be a survivor!
Even though I have vowed to myself this is something I will die with, and not of, doesn’t mean I can just get over it. I can’t say, “well this was fun lets do it again next week, or tomorrow, or how bout never.”
I once shaved my head to show how badly I felt. No disrespect to those with cancer, but I envy your outward sign of illness. I envy how people’s understanding of your condition makes others very sympathetic to you plight. No one is sympathetic to our plight. No one understands.
In their misunderstanding, people call us stupid. They ask why we can’t get a hold of ourselves. They tell us to just get over it.
After reading the above would you say that to me now?
If you did my response would be how can I?