There’s something that is on my mind and I think it’s high time I write about it. Everybody knows that writing is my only outlet, so let me apologize in advance for anyone who might be offended by what I have to say. I will not stay quietly uncomfortable in my life anymore just to keep the peace in my life. I’ve stayed quiet with many issues that I have with more than one person, but this silence is not therapeutic at all.
Support. Family support. Compassion. Empathy. Understanding. These are all things that are sadly lacking in my life. Yes, I have the undying support from my husband, but this post isn’t about him. This post is about my family. My mother. My father. My siblings. My family that has been with me for my whole life has hardly anything to do with me anymore. I rarely get a phone call or a text message from them. I don’t feel like I could call on any of them in my darker moments of this autoimmune life. I have cried myself to sleep over family members who don’t talk to me. I have texted with the suicide prevention line just because I had nobody to talk to. I have felt like an orphan for far too long and none of them even have a clue how I feel because they don’t talk to me long enough to know that there is a problem in the first place.
A very strange thing happens when you are diagnosed with some serious conditions, like I was diagnosed with back in 2018. I was originally given ten years to live, yet there are people who act like I’m already dead. Family members have seemingly forgotten that I even exist. It’s almost as if I actually did die, at least to them, back when I was originally diagnosed, and it’s a very sad way to live life – half dead, half alive, ignored either way.
My mother has done this certain thing that has become almost comical to witness, and to track. If I’m on the phone with my mother and I bring up my health or different aspects of it, she gets off the phone almost immediately. I never get to talk about the things that are bothering me or how I feel about the different things going on with me medically because she suddenly has to get off of the phone. I’m just as guilty of this breakdown in communication since I never tell her that this bothers me, but I’m at a point in my life where I just don’t want the argument. I also feel like I shouldn’t have to fight to have somebody in my life. There are many friends and family members who do not make an effort to check on me, and I’m taking note and shutting down with those people. I’m at a point in my life that I don’t want to waste any more of my precious time with people that I have to chase down. I’m tired of constantly feeling like I’m being ignored or pushed away. And there are a lot of people in my life that have done this to me already, and sadly, there will be more. This is the cruel reality of living with a chronic illness in our society. Either you’re dead, dying or living your best life. There is no room for chronic illness in our culture. There’s no room for people like me in this world and it’s becoming very obvious in my life that I’m just in the way of everybody else.
Not only am I sick forever, I have PTSD from an abusive life prior to meeting my husband. I struggle on a daily basis with various issues from my abusive past. I’m in the process of healing through writing, and so far it’s having a wonderful effect on me. Lately, I’ve been able to get some things out that I thought I would carry to the grave… things that have brought great sadness to my life… things that almost destroyed me. I won’t stop writing just because it makes people uncomfortable. I will write to my heart’s content and if you don’t like it, don’t follow me. This is my story to share and I will do so loud and proud!