Bethinking when my biggest concern was that my mom wouldn't buy me the cute outfit I saw at the mall, or that I missed the newest episode of my favorite TV show. Contrastively, it all seems so frivolous and trivial. Now, I have to agonize over things like needing to get a feeding tube, being in the hospital for half of this past year for 2-3 weeks at a time, new diagnosises of incurable chronic disorders, and other things like that. I fret over medication side effects, having no energy and being looked at like it's laziness, not being able to do something as simple as taking a shower or doing laundry. People my age (30) fret about things like followers on social media and getting a raise at work, while I'm contemplating about whether or not to get a DNR and needing to going on disability. I long for the days where all that concerned me was extending my curfew or getting invited to the popular kid's party. They have an actual life, whereas I merely have a miserable existence. One of the hardest things about chronic issues is other people's perception of me. They call me "lucky" because I "get to" stay home instead if work, as if I'm playing a never-ending version of hooky. What they don't realize is how miserable it is to be feeling so sick and not being able to use work as a distraction; they think we should be grateful. It's almost funny how healthy people will go on vacation for a week and at the end, they say they need a "vacation from their vacation", yet they have no empathy for our situation. When they have the flu or something for like, a week, they are miserable by the end. They don't realize we feel sick like that (and then some) with no end in sight. No light at the end of the tunnel. Nobody who doesn't have chronic health problems are capable of understanding what it feels like to have your body attacking itself, with you caught up in the middle; we end up the only casualties in that particularly brutal war against itself. And the vicious cycle of medications that come with side effects, and then you need medications for them, which have side effects, and 'round and 'round it goes. I wish there was a magic solution for it, but there isn't one, and it's making me spiral out of control. People ask me why I don't believe in God; it's because I've begged him to intervene because I can't handle one more problem, but my miracle has yet to happen. I don't know how much more I can take. My mom had to call the paramedics a week ago, and they suspect I had a small stroke for the 2nd time this year, but I signed an AMA (against medical advice) and wouldn't go to the hospital, because if I do, I either end up being admitted and spending God knows how long there, or they find out I have some new problem and I'm at the point where I just don't even want to know if there is something else wrong with me. I was imprisoned in this body, and I just want out. Anywhere, that is where I'm at thus far.