Doubting My Sickness

First, check out this post by Misandry Angie about self doubt and chronic illness.

Read it? Good.

Now I’m about to get personal.

Medically, I am what is officially known as a “hot mess”. Fibromyalgia, depression. general anxiety, social anxiety, PTSD, sound sensitivity/misophonia, ADD, sleep apena, and to top it off, Borderline Personality Disorder.

It’s so much fun.  I’d party, but I’m too damned tired.  (and no, I’m not looking for suggestions.  Not the point of this post. I have a gang of doctors and a therapist. I have legal people helping me in the long process of filing for disability.  I’m handling shit)

Some days, the ‘good days’, I almost doubt my “Hot Mess” status.  “Hey, I got up and am just a little sore.  I don’t feel like a total failure who should run into traffic.  I might even leave the house today. Am I really that sick?”

And that gets me into trouble every single time. Because if I start to doubt, then I start worrying that I’m actually a big ol’ fraud.  That sure, I can look for a job right now and work and be productive and not a leech on society. Go you!

…and then the next day, or ever the next hour passes, and something breaks.  I’m tired because I went outside among people. Something happened and suddenly my okay mood spirals downward and I feel so worthless that I have to make myself sit down before I do something to myself.  Suddenly I’m nervous and shaky for no real reason, or for a silly reason, like my cat hopped off my desk and went for a nap, therefore he doesn’t like me anymore.

It comes back to me then. The hot mess-ness that is me.  The fact that I can type shit that people like and that makes sense when I can’t speak.  It’s hard, cats and kittens.

Real hard.

It’s hard to live in a world where your worth is based on what you can produce. It leaves people like me feeling worthless, and it leaves society thinking that we deserve less.  A pittance, tossed out like yesterday’s crumbs.  Not even the bare minimum to survive.

Because thinking that you’re a fraud sucks, but having society thinking it too is even worse.

Doubting My Sickness
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3 thoughts on “Doubting My Sickness

  1. 1

    I feel this all the time with my depression. On the flip side, I feel like a shitty partner and a lousy caretaker every time I feel frustrated about having to be on call for my disabled partner. Which, of course, triggers my depression.

  2. 3

    Yeah, I’m a bit of a hot mess, too. I have a mental illness gumbo of depression, anxiety, and ADD. On my good days, I think, “Huh, maybe I’m not mentally ill after all.” Then the bad days come and I’m like, “Never mind.”

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