Wow, when did October get to be halfway over now?
It's another Thursday and we are #BehindTheScenes. Today, I am going to talk about chronic illness. This is not a generalized post. I am diagnosed and it does affect the way I write, when I do it, and how I live my life. Trauma has a lot to do with it.
I do not make it a secret that I was abused. Growing up, though, I was convinced of many things, one of them being my weight. I am not skinny, I am round. My body shape cannot be a twig and I have accepted this. However, I have learned that I can control my weight and this has led to other problems I will discuss later. Yes, this has to do with chronic illness.
Because my father had a construction accident and undiagnosed problems until the late 1990's, he was a terror. Nobody could possibly be in pain worse than him. I admit, the incident was bad. He fell two stories and hit his head on hard concrete while doing construction work. But it meant that being sick was not welcome. I had to rough it out through several illnesses and still do chores, go to school, etc.
For years, I denied my pain and pretended it did not exist. I could not possibly have a problem! But it took a nosedive a couple of years ago. When my blood tests finally came up ANA+, I felt like there were answers. I did not realize that it was only the beginning - advocating for myself, dismissive doctors, and even a hospital that triggered my trauma and they call it troublesome. All of it ended in tears (yes, emotional dysregulation is a bitch and I am still learning) and I am still pushing through.
What do you see in this selfie?
It's a common scene. I am in my office, listening to music and smiling. I am most likely writing my book. I have ideas, excited about the future. Calvin is in the other room, playing. I can hear him making noises. My husband is home, checking into something around the house. We own our house and he is always fixing something.
Besides the stress about no income, this picture was like every other day: joint pain and a migraine. One of my eyes is blurry and it is not because my Rx for my glasses is off. Every time I reach across my desk to type, the inside of my arms touch a cold surface and that is painful. The noises around the house make it worse.
But I am still working.
The reason why I keep myself so busy, work so hard, is because of my early life. Told that it was never enough and I could not possibly be that sick. I carried that throughout my professional career, even to this day. I hardly nap or take a break. Everyday, every hour, I am working. The majority of my day is being an author and I am doing this all on my own.
Please kind to those who do not have the same abilities that you do. Disabled does not mean unable. We are at a disadvantage versus people without illnesses. For more info, you can check this website out.