I’ve been MIA for what feels like months rather than days, but life has really been getting in my way lately. This has me thinking about how in terms of our mental health, intrusive thoughts get a lot of attention—but what of the grist of life that we cannot control just as easily? These are matters in which we can only control how we react to them, but in times of reduced physical capability, they can be quite overwhelming and difficult to deal with… and the world doesn’t make many accommodations for the sick.
In fact, I’ve found it to be quite the opposite. In that most people are more inclined to take advantage of my reduced capacity, than not. Family, friends, and foe alike.
If life is a battlefield; there aren’t many spare horses available to accommodate the wounded in the dailiness of living, so most of my friends and family have simply left me behind to fend for myself. So if nothing else, ableism has taught me that it is wears the same face as ageism, because our society has commodified people to the point that we are valued by how much energy we have to contribute, rather than the wisdom of experience we have to offer. I’ve also encountered a few illness groupies, who appear to delight in what I’ve come to think of as “sickness tourism” or “illness voyeurism.” It’s clear they aren’t so much there for me, so much as they show up for a taste of my drama, before moving on to the next crisis to feast on and nourish their saviour complexes.
And foes—well—being sick has given me a massive new enemy, given my healthcare system is less interested in helping me to get better, and more interested in telling me that I’m not gettting better because I AM the problem.
It also doesn’t help that my father passed away several years ago, and entrusted the care of his estate to a bank who have disregarded many of their fiduciary responsibilities so that after much effort on my part: I discovered that they committed a series of breaches, which I have had to escalate to the appropriate ombudsman. And as the oldest sibling, the fight for justice falls mostly on me. It is also bitter pill, because I’m certain this has contributed much to my poor health, yet I also need the money to spend on private healthcare.
And like most, I have a partner, a house, and pets that need caring for, but I have no support system. My other half and I support each other; but it doesn’t alter the fact that some of these responsibilities would be difficult for any person to juggle. Never mind that I’m also trying to fight for my health, my inheritance, run a business, maintain boundaries with all the narcissists I have had to spend a great deal of time and effort to understand that I naturally attract, maintain my sense of self, and somehow try to emerge from all this whole.
Spoiler: I probably won’t. But I try to remind myself that I would rather come out the other side of the hand I’ve been dealt with a few bruises, than to never have tried at all. Or worse; to have attempted to rely on others to play for me—because that game is a guaranteed losing hand.
#MentalHealth #IntrusiveThoughts #ChasingLife #LifeLessons #TheDisabledLife #NarcissisticPersonalityDisorder #Thoughts #MyCondition #ChronicIllness
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