Chronically Writing: The Struggles

Some days, it's tough to show a smile. There is a huge mask on my face and I am walking around, helping others and lending a shoulder or a hand. It does not take a lot to be kind to others. There are so many hurting people in the world. Somebody has to remember their stories.

But for the traumatized person, there is no such thing as saving grace for yourself. Your story does not matter. Everybody deserves better except for you. Anything you can do to help is our only role in life. To give something that many others never experienced. It shows a sense of innocence and naivety, hiding the true monster behind your eyes.

Like with chronic illness, the struggles of poverty and loneliness are constant. You are too disabled for an actual paying job and you are not disabled enough for Social Security. You are wondering, most of the time in your head, about what your life is like now, the appointments, showing that you are sick and have those symptoms and making sure you are taking the right meds at the right time. Not to mention, the loneliness of watching everyone around you go on with life without saying a word to you.

Never invited. Never cared for. Never trusted. Never anything.

#ChronicallyWriting here. And today, the current struggles are overwhelming and life feels like it's out of control. If you are a regular visitor, welcome back. If you are a newbie, welcome to this blog. Here, I write about the different angles of chronic illness and life on the spectrum.

You should all know that I am chronically ill. I have Hypermobility, a connective tissue disorder (undefined or multiple), Fibromyalgia, Arthritis, Hypoglycemia (low blood sugar, no diabetes), Syringomyelia, trigger finger in both hands and Raynaud's Phenomenon. I am also autistic and have MDD, C-PTSD and a general anxiety disorder. It does not look it from the outside, does it?

What people see is always different from what's on the inside, though.

You can look at me and see a plus-sized woman. Big shoulder, ass and boobs. I must be lazy and needing a good diet and exercise, right? All that weight and anxiety is taking me down, right? I should not be in a doctor's office, complaining about pain.

What nobody can tell from an initial glance is that I have been worked. Despite my body type (bones can't shrink, remember), I was on extreme diets and exercise regiments growing up. Even though my father having a culinary degree, he encouraged me to skip meals and never touch starch or sweets. If I did, it was extremely restricted and I was shamed. Worst of all, I was told repeatedly that I was going to get diabetes, high blood pressure, etc., and that I was a fat slob, a pig, etc.

I was emotionally and physically abused. Terrorized into stilling my blunt comments and stims and specific niche subjects. Forced into a regiment of studying by attending Catholic school. Told that I was a drama queen by voicing something that bothered me. Punished if I deviated from that pathway. By the time I started high school in the early 2000s, I was the book dragon, history loving academic. I loved (and still do) knowledge and had special interests that I kept to myself.

But what does that have to do with today's struggles?

A cousin of mine introduced me to a book - The Body Keeps the Score by Dr. Bessel van der Kolk. The Reader Digest's version of it is this: that we store trauma within ourselves and it physically manifests later in life through illnesses. He also talked about how a traumatized person has to do more than talk therapy and CBT. Other body-based treatments were discussed, as well as yoga and EMDR. But what fascinated me the most was that the past can affect the today. The wiring we gained in childhood replays itself over and over again in our adulthood, if we reach it, because we believe that it's going to continuously happen throughout our lives.

Geez, that would explain why talk therapy would not always help!

People, the brain is an organ. Like any other in our bodies, we need to take care of it. Mental illness and neurodivergency are in the brain. While one is affected by outside forces, the other is the way the brain is wired.

Take in all that I told you. I have these diseases and the trauma that I am unlearning. My brain is wired to think differently. Think of the addicts you may know, or someone who is recovering, or someone who sought therapy. What do we all have in common?

We were traumatized.

What does my autism have to do with this?

If you think I wasn't bullied in school, you are sadly mistaken. As the weird kid, I tried to be friendly to everyone. But nobody replicated the action to me. I was teased, and it grew worse when I hit puberty at such a young age. I was scratching at my bra in the middle of class. Sometimes, I went to school without a bra on. Having to sneak to the girls' room more at least once a month.

All of that, and not having a mother to help me. She just bought me a book and refused to answer any questions. At the time, I also had a female teacher, but she was such a bully that I could not talk without her mocking me. I looked at it as a thing that happens to everyone, but I was the freak that deserved to be awkward and go through it early. And since I was uncomfortable around other girls, it made this much, much worse.

The stares. The whispers. The judgments. All that action and nobody knew what it meant except that I was different and it was not normal.

Today, all that comes to me in other forms. Not reaching out for help when I need it. Fearing others' reactions. Keeping my autism masked. Dressing plainly. Smiling when I don't feel it. Staying too long in situations. Giving when my heart ached for the same love.

I hope you never had to experience this kind of loneliness and pain. And if you have, it's ok. From one traumatized person to another, I can say that I love you. I am here for you. I will help you in any way I can.

If you are reading this and thinking that I cannot love a person I have not met, think again. Love comes in all forms and boundaries. The only reason I would be checking on you is to see if your bowl is empty. There should be no comparison or competition...and that is what makes us selfish.

Namaste, everyone! Have a wonderful day!

#ChronicallyIll #SucksToBeSick #Neurodivergency #ThatWeirdKid #IsolatedAdult