Some things happened in the last 2 weeks that led to some unbearable pain (ended up in hospital), and unbearable hopelessness and anxiety. I’m pretty good at keeping my social media devoid of deeply personal trauma, which is why it seems business as usual. But it’s not
I’ve dealt with anxiety for over 10 years, but this is something that feels like it’s etched in my soul now and I have never felt anything like it. My mental health is in the basement of hell.
Ever since I had surgery on my arm, I’ve felt like I’m shamed or judged for being hurt or sad so I became scared to talk about it online. And then to people I know. Which meant I didn’t talk about it at all. Sick and sad people are not rejects.
If my talking occasionally about what I’m going through bothers you, then that’s on you and you need to figure out why you don’t have compassion. OR! Just stop talking to me.
My injuries and surgeries and subsequent chronic pain and mental health rollercoaster doesn’t define me. I define me by the parts of me that contribute to society, my friends and family, and by existing as a caring, intelligent, funny, feeling, human being.
The doctors think I have Rheumatoid Arthritis. But also through MRI they’ve found a displaced disc in my jaw, that has fallen backwards behind the socket, and buckles every time I move any part of my jaw to talk, chew, swallow, cry, laugh, yawn. I’m on an urgent surgery list.
I specifically do my best to try not to burden people with the ins and outs of my life. But dealing with this alone, in silence, during a pandemic that makes your problems seem so small in comparison even though they’re not - is so so so heavy.