my vulnerabilities

i am only human. i think.

the past 2 months or so, especially, saw me very temperamental. did you see my posts when i exploded and i cried, when i was sarcastic and when i wept? did you read the resentment and bitterness? did you see those imaginary “why???”s that peppered my posts?

i cannot explain why i was so. i won’t find excuses. maybe i was being a whiny bitch. maybe i can’t count my blessings. maybe i don’t know better huh.

i’ll tell you though, in your face, what i was and am.

I AM SCARED AND FRIGHTENED.

there. i said it. i am scared of uncertainty. i’m scared of change. i’m scared when i lack answers. i’m terrified when i have to live with that until we figure something out 3-6 months later. what’s more frightening, indefinitely. pain is indefinite in my life and it is intolerable for me when i hear news when i have to bear with more when i just settled with less. i am afraid of uncertainties with side effects when they come slamming in my face. i’m scared of new problems no doubt. who wouldn’t? especially when you’re symptomatic?

i am scared and frightened, and i felt like i was patronised. that’s all. and with that comes anger and rage and threats to walk away. threats to give up and stop.

and till today i am still feeling it. you won’t see that i’m scared and frightened. all you would see is a girl enraged who’d boom about everything she lost in the last months and if you’re unfortunate, the last many years. it takes time to peel open the layers to see that vulnerable side of me, which some people either don’t get to see, or refuse to see when given the chance to. only few readily see that side of me.

so yeah. i will be hostile to the next doctor (i know) who shuts me first before i shut them up. because chronic illness patients deserve to be treated like any other patient, or human at the very least.

oh and lastly, if my scars aren’t good enough for them, or if they think they’re ghastly, then sorry but not sorry, you my doctor are not good enough for me then. go eat cake.

 

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