I try to not let my illnesses take over my life. In fact, I try very hard to not let them define me as a person. I am all for the ‘being the person before the illness’ rhetoric, and if anyone else describes me solely by that ‘defining’ feature, they often get a long and very grumpy lecture on my other wonderful and much more worthy characteristics. On a personal level however, sometimes I succeed and other times I don’t, often coming out with the phrases ‘I have Crohns‘ or ‘I’m a depressive’ as an answer to seemingly anything. I often regret this mental narrative as it usually feels like I’ve given in to my illness, and subsequently let it take over.
However, this last year has been an experience in acceptance. I have realised that sometimes, you must be that person who stands and says ‘no, actually, I can’t do that because I have this‘. It’s not easy, but let me tell you the story of how I came to learn. Continue reading
Sometimes I’m like a bath that has been left just that little too long. Not hot enough to burn, not cold enough to not bother, just lukewarm enough to be slightly uncomfortable and confusing.
Do I stay in? Do I get out? Am I enjoying this? Am I not? Most the time you either accept this weird temperature, or you actually try to do something about it; whether that’s getting out, or turning on the hot water tap and waiting for the bath to warm up.
Well sometimes, I’m that lukewarm bath. Sometimes, I don’t feel anything at either end of the spectrum, I’m just…where I am. I’m not happy, proud, excited, joyous, content. I’m also not angry, sad, upset, or annoyed. I’m not really anything, I’m just sitting in a very weird in between. Continue reading
I’ve come to realise that underneath everything, I am a very angry and irritable person. I’m quick to fire up and very slow to burn out. I’m a seether, a grudger, a hater of all things. Would you have guessed?
One of my friends once told me that when I get angry she knows it’s real, she knows that something must have really pissed me off, because according to her, I don’t get angry. But I’ve mentioned it before that I would rather hold it inside me than let anything come out, and that I would rather suffer than anybody else. Unfortunately for me, I think that just makes me an even angrier person. It has no where to go, so it grows and shrinks, grows and shrinks, and then just fucks up everything. Continue reading