It’s a late night post, or early morning depending on how you want to look at it but my old friend insomnia seems to have returned. You don’t have to read this one. If you give it a skip I won’t judge you as it’s just a random ramble and I’m sort of hoping that if I get a few words out of my head it will help ease the worry a bit and make space for more creativity and oomph.
On Wednesday I finally sucked up my pride and went to the Dr. I hate going because I always feel judged and as if I’m making things up or just being a hypochondriac because physically I look fine and I manage to hide most things really well when I’m out in public or socializing which I guess is another reason those events drain me as much as they do. Anyone who has met me will probably tell you that I am not the introvert I say am, they are more likely to tell you I’m friendly, open and always loud and smiling.
I think I should’ve been an actress cause clearly I’m so fantastic at putting on a convincing show.
What you don’t see is that I am in chronic pain, you don’t see the constant hurt when I stand or even sit or lay down thanks to falling off a horse and being kicked in both the spine and head (by two different horses seconds apart), it probably didn’t help that I just kept getting back on the most stubborn beasts to train them either. Another unhelpful thing contributing to the pain is that I have hyper-mobility, a genetic disorder where my joints over flex which often leads to things like my elbows and knees needing to be painfully popped back into place at the most inconvenient times.
What you don’t see is the lump that formed on my back and that has been a nagging worry in the back of my mind because cancer is also in my genetics which means that on Monday I head in for surgery to have it removed and biopsied and while I know that it is most likely to be nothing it doesn’t really stop the anxiety. I am rather peeved though that it will be messing with my tattoo.
What you don’t see that my BPD means my brain is literally formed differently to most and that if I wanted to I could apply for disability, not that I would though because that to me would be admitting defeat and I refuse to let something like that stop me from being the best I can.
What you don’t see is how quickly my eyesight is failing me and how I cry just thinking about what could happen if it doesn’t stop or plateau because what use am I as an artist if I can’t see what I’m doing.
What you don’t really see are the subtle side effects of medications that I take, sure you can see the weight gain, but you don’t realize that it just won’t go away no matter what I try. You probably don’t notice that my hair is a third of the thickness that it used to be and you have no idea that I have night sweats so bad I wake up drenched every morning and have to change my bedding so often (such a pain in winter).
But then how could you anyway?
How could you know this because I only really let you see what I think you want to. A happy and positive person that occasionally opens up about depression and anxiety but never about the other things. You don’t really want to know about what I deal with daily anyway so why complain. Because usually if I do you’ll say “she’s just looking for attention” which is what I’ve been told several times before. And so I slap a smile on my face.
Despite off of this. Despite all the worry, all the crap. I am actually sort of happy. I have friends who might not understand but they try to. Friends who listen patiently when I need to vent and give me a good talking to when I need it, who are honest enough to tell me I’m just feeling sorry for myself when they know I need to hear it so I can pick myself up and keep going. Who help out in any way they possibly can and are in my opinion far too good to me. I have parents that I’m sure struggle to really know me but are at least supportive in their own ways and help Fysh and I our quite a bit. And I have a kid that literally is one of a kind, a true unicorn. He showers me with love even on the days where I don’t want anyone to touch me, he pushes through it and just loves me harder. And I have a person that has put up with crap and moods and all the side effects for almost 3 years even though he isn’t obligated to. Man deserves a friggin medal.
And THAT is how and why I am able to push on, to smile through it all, to fool each of you even though I know for a fact that rock bottom… it has a basement.