What am I supposed to be all the time? All sweetness and light, and sad and contrite? Sorry, that’s not the way life works. The only people who have the right to PHYSICALLY interfere in my life are my doctors, myself, and my PCA (personal care attendant.) LET ME BE MYSELF, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. I’m an adult, and a human being. If less interference is run in my life, I’ll be a much happier person, definitely.
Wheelchair DOES NOT equal pathetic. I have the right to talk to whomever I choose, whenever I choose, and in a medium (pardon the pun) both parties are comfortable with. I’m sorry, but I’m in the driver’s seat on this one. I’m the one with a mouth, and a good sense of judgement.
A friend told me once, “Don’t let others steal your joy.” and I’m going to add to that this: I will cope however I need to at any given time. The only person LICENSED to tell me otherwise is my therapist. She is a trained professional who is damn good at what she does.
I have a few true friends on this journey, and by true I don’t mean those who solely take my side; these friends care enough to see past my mistakes and call me out in a respectful, and up front manner., and they know me, inside and out.
I live with this giant pill (pardon the pun) of reality every single day. I work, I attend school, and I am in active treatment. I have enough reality in my face to last me several lifetimes, thanks, ever so.
Things will never be the same, because I have changed. That’s the way life turns. Very, very slowly I am regaining a much stronger sense of self, and I refuse to have that taken away. By anyone.
I don’t enjoy being broken. I don’t do this kind of stuff for attention. I am who I am, and I have to live with myself and my actions every day. There are days I hate myself, and think I’m a vile human being. I don’t easily trust others, and I have a hard time forming new relationships; I constantly worry if I’m going to lose loved ones because I have emotional outbursts, or get angry or edgy. So I push it all down, when I’m screaming inside for release. If I don’t react, then no one will leave I think to myself.
People have made excuses not to be around me, or they edge away. I stay by myself most of the time because of fear. Fear I’ll do something “I shouldn’t” and people will judge me.
All I want is for someone to sit and listen, and help me through this, but when it comes down to it, the only real person who can help me, is me. No one really understands unless they’ve been in my shoes or have a loved one that’s struggling with an illness or condition that can consume them whether they know it or not.
I’ve not been able to write because I’ve been silenced by the demons within.
