I’m sick of it all.
It’s been so hard to write. I feel bad coming here to write only to complain and cry… but I probably shoudln’t feel that way. I shouldn’t, because I try to be strong the whole fucking time, all while thinking I’m not supposed to complain, that I’m supposed to take all the blows and survive. Well, let this be that tiny corner of the world where I don’t HAVE TO.
Guilt is probably one of the suckiest things that come along with having an “invisible” illness. I feel like I constantly need to justify myself, not to anyone but to my own mind. Reminding myself that I’m lucky, that I have things going on for me, that my family is taking care of me and I have the most awesome SO in the universe, who understands me completely, fights along with me, gives me a reason to be alive everyday. My physical health is fine by all parameters, even though I feel horrible due to the meds withdrawal. I mean I don’t have any “serious” physical medical condition and I fear it terribly. So I keep saying in my head, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, and being fine means that I definitely have no right to feel this horrible.
But I do. Most of the time I’m only surviving. Trying to do my best while thinking that in reality, I’m just being spoiled and lazy and I only need to be deprived of my “comfort” and then I’d learn the hard way and magically become a normal human being. But when I’m saner and can think more objectively, I realize that taking away my only support would only kill me faster, and maybe unconsciously I just want it all to be over by sabotaging myself.