If there’s no finish line, then what’s the point
I’m 24 and have been sick all my life. From a traumatic birth, getting diagnosed with asthma at one day old, getting a lung infection at a few months old and constantly having a cold, or flu, or headaches that take days to go away, or migraines that take weeks to go away, or muscle pain, or skeletal pain, or inflammation, or some weird new pain or ailment.
I’m starting to have a real hare for healthy people. Not only do they have absolutely no idea how lucky they are, they don’t seem to understand that not everyone has that. They don’t seem to understand that I’m not doing it for attention, I’m not lazy, I’m not “obsessed with being sick”, I’m not incapable and I’m not someone that wants to be sick. Why the hell would I want to do this to myself?
And why, for the Love of everything good in this world, am I expected to just function like everybody else. I’m expected to perform at work like everyone else, to be able to do everything from sleeping 8 hours (lol) to cooking, cleaning, working, eating, working out, do stuff on weekends.
I just want to sleep, and cry in peace. No one understands the absolute mental toll their expectations or comments puts on me. You don’t think I feel guilty? You don’t think I think those things about myself?
Explain to me how being worried that a flare up can happen at any point for any reason, that a new symptom will just appear and force itself to become my new normal, that I’ll lose my job, that my friends are irritated with me, that my partner is getting sick of me being sick, how would I want this?! Why the hell would I want this? Why would I want to spend thousands on medical bills, or have a doctors appointment on my diary at any give n point, or have a search history that would put a medical journal to shame, or have multiple spreadsheets tracking absolutely everything I do because you never know when a new illness will pop up.
I’m exhausted. I’m so so exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally. I cry daily, I’m in pain every single day. And the worst part is I DONT KNOW WHATS WRONG WITH ME BECAUSE NO ONE WILL HELP ME. My body is literally trying to kill me and I can’t stop it. How am I expected to function like everyone else when at this point I’m barely a person or a human being?
I feel like an empty, pointless bag of scrap molecules that’s being tortured for entertainment.
I don’t know how long I can continue like this. I’m contemplating ending everything 3 times a week at the very least. I’m screwing up my liver with medication. For what? What’s the point? To stay alive so I can continue to do this every day? Hope that one day I’ll have a day where I’m just a normal girl with a normal life? That day hasn’t come for 24 years, why the hell would it come at all.