Post by genx on Jan 9, 2022 14:36:25 GMT 7
This was basically me for over a decade. I was hiding the fact that I live with PTSD. My GP at the time told me to confide in my girlfriend my mental health condition, and I faced bitter rejection. After that, I made sure that I kept my silence. Lately though I have been more comfortable with it, especially since accepting my condition meant that I was able to get more support.
Read the rest here.
Today, to put it bluntly, I lost the plot. Chucked a huge wobbly. I screamed, swore, cursed just about everyone in the world, was mean to my husband (the one part I'm genuinely ashamed of). I threw things.
Why? Because I was in pain, frustrated, and could feel myself fading like Marty McFly in Back to the Future.
Welcome to one of the bad days of living with disability or chronic illness. Despite what some might think, you don't automatically pick up traits like bravery and being an inspiration with your disability shopping docket. Being in pain is hard. Being dependent on others is, for me, 100 times harder.
If I didn't occasionally drop my bundle, I sometimes feel like I'd disappear — that I'd become the Invisible Woman. As my disabilities and illnesses mount, I often feel like the more I see of them, the less I see of me.
And so behaving totally dreadfully from time to time is a way of not losing who I am to the conditions I have. It's a way of staying visible.
Getting the diagnosis
Twenty years ago, I went from being someone without disabilities to someone with several. Back then, every week I worked long hours, played several games of netball and nursed a hangover or two.
But it slowly became clear that something was wrong. I started having trouble with my handwriting, experienced terrifying cramping in my face, back and feet. I began slurring words. Colleagues told me I appeared uninterested in work meetings, that I was tuned out — was I even listening?
Why? Because I was in pain, frustrated, and could feel myself fading like Marty McFly in Back to the Future.
Welcome to one of the bad days of living with disability or chronic illness. Despite what some might think, you don't automatically pick up traits like bravery and being an inspiration with your disability shopping docket. Being in pain is hard. Being dependent on others is, for me, 100 times harder.
If I didn't occasionally drop my bundle, I sometimes feel like I'd disappear — that I'd become the Invisible Woman. As my disabilities and illnesses mount, I often feel like the more I see of them, the less I see of me.
And so behaving totally dreadfully from time to time is a way of not losing who I am to the conditions I have. It's a way of staying visible.
Getting the diagnosis
Twenty years ago, I went from being someone without disabilities to someone with several. Back then, every week I worked long hours, played several games of netball and nursed a hangover or two.
But it slowly became clear that something was wrong. I started having trouble with my handwriting, experienced terrifying cramping in my face, back and feet. I began slurring words. Colleagues told me I appeared uninterested in work meetings, that I was tuned out — was I even listening?
