This is gonna be a Pity Party, but I need to get it out of my system. Ye be warned.
There’s something on my mind and has been for some time now which I really would love to talk about.
Namely …
Don’t get me wrong, I am happy for my friends if they achieve something. Fulfil a dream. Complete a life goal. All that. But at the same time, I am also heartbroken, because there’s Lil Ole Me who is at the receiving end of each and every bitchslap life has to offer. I am not jealous by any means. Trust me on that. But I am mourning a life that I’ll never get to enjoy anymore. A life that’s been taken away from me.
I am utterly thankful for all the adventures I was able to go on. The fun ride I’ve had with the concerts. The travels. But I am also grieving this. Knowing that my time is running out for example when it comes to movie premieres and meeting A Certain Someone is really getting to me as well. I miss not having to plan everything days in advance and having to calculate how much energy I can sacrifice to go out and enjoy myself …knowing full well that I’ll be unable to function properly for at least one or two days. And also, coming up empty-handed again and again at premieres. But that’s another story for another time.
Ever since POTS showed up three years ago, life has become more and more of a spectator sport. Meaning, it’s passing me by and I am here, watching from the sidelines. When people say I was “lazy”, a “hypochondriac”, “unwilling to work” whatsoever, it hurts, too. Like, did y’all think I WANTED that?? That I decided one fine morning that I was from now on crippled by a nervous system that doesn’t cooperate anymore? That simple things such as going on a groceries run, or meeting up with a friend who’s in town for a couple of hours actually EXHAUSTS me?? That I’ve had to give up dreams and hopes because my body fails me day in, day out? That my body has become so unpredictable that it’s always a surprise – do I have enough energy to do something for funsies? Or am I too depleted for anything other than staying in bed because OUCH!?
Honestly – it fucking SUCKS.
Especially that I had to give up the ONE thing that made me feel the most alive: concerts. My Happy!Place. Where I could be entirely unapologetically my TRUE self. Shenanigans included (if you know, you know). But it has become too much as well. Overstimulation. Noise. Lights. People. All that. And it’s fucking heartbreaking. I miss the excitement pre-concert. I miss the laughs, the friends I’ve made whilst queueing. All that’s left are memories. Memories of better, funner times. Times when I could enjoy myself without having to face the consequences of dealing with the aftermath …like a crash, for example.
I know, it’s kindly meant when people tell me “You’re so strong!” because of how I am dealing with all of this. But brutally honest? I just don’t want to have to be strong anymore. It’s exhausting. Juggling several invisible illnesses whilst trying to make ends meet and navigating an absolute Hellscape of a dystopian timeline is simply too much. Being strong is the only option I have left, if I don’t want to give in to my Inner Demons once and for all. But damn, do I wish I could catch a break and experience great things again without paying a (way too high) price for it!
Instead, there’s one battle after another, a constant uphill struggle.
And hardly anything left to look forward to. Just yet another buried hope, a shattered dream.
And I cannot help but wonder – will this ever come to an end?
*****
pic: mine
