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
We fell in love in a spectacular way. We fell in love in a way that is the epitome of us. A memory we can share together, and know that it was only a way that we could meet. It wasn’t angels and trumpets, but just a sense of coming home, of comfort and content.
We all have our ticks and our dreams and our lives: everyone develops in such a complicated way, that no one is complicated. We are all simple once you begin to learn, and you learnt like a professional.
You know exactly how I pick apart my food to make it last longer. You know how loud I snore. You’ve heard me sing out of tune on late night drives so I stay awake. You don’t hesitate to swap our foods around, and you always give me a bite of your pizza (even when I said I didn’t want any). You know of my unhealthy obsession with certain TV/book characters, my many unfinished series, and the fact that I refuse to buy anything in the middle of a collection (I have to have it all).
You know the reason I always put my bed in the corner against the wall. You pull me closer when I tug on your sleeve in crowded areas. You know the exact colour of my eyes when I’ve been crying, and you know just how to make me breathe. You’ve learnt the way I whimper when I have nightmares, and you aren’t afraid of the dark thoughts that sometimes come tumbling out. 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