Mountah Ash's Musings

The musings of a chronically ill girl named after a tree.

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Wednesday, February 12, 2014

I dont even know what to title this

       At the moment, I am sitting in a chair annoyed because I have a freakish amount of pent up energy that I cant do anything about. (I would start bouncing up and down in my chair, but then I will get a bigger headache and/or panic attack.)My legs have been really weak lately, and four days ago began to be unable to support my weight. (Though in my legs's* defense, 175lbs is probably not easy to keep upright when they are filled with Lyme bacteria. Or at all.)**

*Seriously, is there a possessive plural for the word leg?? Because if its not "legs's" I dont know what it is.
**this paragraph has nothing to do with this whole thing except for the leg part which is important

   It hit me yesterday that I will never know what it is like to have a normal childhood. I mean, I will be 18 in May and I barely ever leave the house.
Not cause I don't want to (which sometimes is the case because I am slightly terrified of people) but because I honestly have a hard time getting out of bed. Even writing about this, I am having a hard time not wallowing in self pity.

[Please note, I try very hard to not wallow in pity. Not only is it selfish, but wallowing is a fairly gross and muddy thing to do. Unless you are a pig in mud, then I am sure its fabulous]
But the more I pretend to people I am alright, the harder it is to stay happy. I spend so much energy smiling and being chipper and trying to make it look like I am okay, that I end up sobbing and sleeping for hours.

  I get so frustrated with people for thinking I am not really sick, or that I am exaggerating. A guy at church (we will call him Sted [I couldn't decide between Steve or Fred] ) always asks me how I am. 

Sted: Good morning Rowan. Are you feeling better then you were last week?

Me: Nope! How are you?
[This is my customary response. I say nope, with a smile and then finish with "But I'm still standing" -which is funny cause right now I can't actually stand-]

Sted: Nooooopeee 

When he says "nooope" he laughes, pinches my cheeks and then pats my shoulder like it is some inside joke between us. 

I was really really bothered by this; but then I realized something.

 If I keep pretending to everyone like I am okay, never letting anyone see past my shield, Its not their fault that they don't think I am being serious. I can't get mad at people for seeing a healthy looking girl who is always smiling and saying she is fine and shrugging things off and assuming she is indeed fine.

In a way, I have been lying to myself. By pretending to everyone that I am okay, I delude myself into a horrid line of thinking.
 That Maybe if I pretend that I am okay, it will all just disappear and I will be healthy again.  
And that is probably why I have been getting so many panic attacks and mental breakdowns.
 A person is not meant to hide who they are from everyone around them. {Unless you are a spy.)

 Yeah, by letting on about how bad off I am I might lose a few friends. But that is okay becase honestly? I don't know that I would want to deal with me if I was in their place. But in the long run, I would lose more friends by pretending I am okay, and resent them for believing me.

  It was a broken kind of logic anyway. One that came back to bite me in the butt. I have lost the ability to walk much and I have to literally drag myself up stairs.  I have spent all these years acting like I am fine, and now I can't hide it anymore.(It is tragically ironic though that I can't walk or stand because I have been saying "Hey, Im standing" instead of saying I'm fine.)

    As I write this, I realized something. Part of the reason I am cried myself to sleep about being unable to walk [granted a small part, but a part none the less] was because I am vain.

 I was too vain to want people to see how ill I am. 
Honestly, this not walking thing is one of the lesser problems that I have. 
But it is one of the only visible ones. 

People can't see my inner panic attacks, or my depression.
They can't see any of the long list of things that hurt all over my body. 
They don't know that when I mess up a sentence, its because I can't figure out what word I meant.
Or that I am quiet because I honest to goodness can not manage to form a legitimate sentence.

But having to use crutches and wince in pain while going up stairs and having my legs buckle under me? That is terrifyingly noticeable. 
Having to ask people for help scares me. And that needs to change.

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