chronicalchronicles - Tumblr blog

[chronicalchronicles]

It looks like it's the saison. The saison of depression. Is it truly a saisonal one? I guess we will see.

I've been struggling more than usual in recent weeks. I've been in therapy for a couple of years now, so my therapist noticed the change for worse and pretty much forced me to seek medication. I got my new meds today, and I'm wondering if they can truly help me. I hope they will.

In the last 2 or 3 days, I thought I was getting better again, I had some more energy and started having thoughts that I don't need any meds, I'm getting better already. Ha, I managed to fool myself into looking for help! But nuh-huh, it's here. The emptiness, the pointlessness, the constant crying.

I know I have more resources in myself to cope than I've ever had, but it's still not enough. That's how even I can see now that it's bad. But it was still hard to admit that I won't just get over it by pushing through or waiting. Couple of times in the past I considered ending the therapy, thought it couldn't bring me more, there's nothing I can still learn that I wouldn't know, but in the time of crisis I now see that I sometimes just need someone who will see my struggle even if I'm not willing to see it myself, someone who will try to talk me into seeking more help, someone who will say "hey, it's not your fault and you don't have to get through it alone. It's OK to need help and I hope that you will get it."

[chronicalchronicles]

Do you sometimes wonder if you are really that sick or just lazy and looking for excuses?

I'm tired of myself being tired. When somebody asks me how I am doing, I only have an option to lie and say that I'm fine or to be honest, which would be seen as complaining.

I'm trying to be gentle with myself saying "you've had a bad day/week. You deserve rest. Don't push yourself", but it looks like almost every day and week are bad, so what do I do? I avoid telling people the truth about how I feel, even my closest friends, to not be a burden to them. I'm tired of having the same issues over and over again, and I don't know how am I supposed to live like that for the rest of my existence. What's the point of that?

[chronicalchronicles]

Yesterday, I was running some errands outside, and while I was walking, I noticed something weird - I walked for a couple hundred meters, and... I didn't feel pain. For the first time in months, I was able to walk to the store and back without feeling it in my body. Of course, the pain was back later, but it was a nice experience nevertheless.

If you live with chronic pain, it is difficult to imagine (or remember) how it feels without it. And vice versa. People who can go on with their daily tasks without experiencing chronic pain usually can't imagine what it means to experience it. It is not surprising. Even if we can conceptualise this in a logical way, it doesn't really MEAN anything unless we experience it. I wish, though, that there was more compassion and understanding for people with chronic pain. Most of us have to deal with every "normal" daily struggle with an additional layer of suffering, which is very often not visible from outside.

Anyway, it was nice to feel better for once. I have been working on managing the source of some of my pain better for the last couple of months, and it gives me some hope for more of these better days.

[chronicalchronicles]

People often talk about the need for representation in media, while others (usually the overrepresented ones) argue that it doesn't matter. It matters so much, though. I'm already happy to see more and more fat and disabled people being depicted in various places, but I have one problem with it - even if fat and/or disabled, we are still being shown mostly conventionally pretty people. I don't think that I've ever seen a person with a body like mine and a condition like mine being shown in a different context than medical photographies showing its (condition's) symptoms. This makes me sad and really ashamed of showing my body in any setting, public or private. Maybe other people with similar issues also feel the same, and that's why I can't see them anywhere? It usually takes a lot of courage to show one's own body to the public, I can already sense the comment section in those posts, and I don't think that I could have what it takes to deal with it. But if it doesn't show the need to normalise looking "not pretty", then I don't know what does. I feel like too many people in large bodies or people with disabilities feel the need to take care of their appearance even more than it's usually expected from able- bodied and thin people so others would maybe at least consider their right to exist and be treated as a human being. The pressure put on the already heavily marginalised folks is huge, and someone who has never experienced it probably couldn't ever imagine how it really feels.

[chronicalchronicles]

I needed years to realise how fatphobic and neglectful doctors are. Since my childhood, I have heard that I was overweight. I was told to "eat less and move more", you know the standard. But only recently I realised that these "prescribed" behaviours were never preceded with any analysis of how much I'd be moving and eating at that time. No one single doctor ever asked me that. Nobody ever tried to measure anything. All my struggle was pinned on me as my fault only, as me "not doing enough." In truth, I was quite an active kid, teenager, I only had a longer period of sedentary lifestyle in my life when fighting burnout/ depressive episodes. I saw my peers eating the same or more than me and remaining thin, but I would still blame myself for everything because that's what others did as well. Many people would lose weight by following simple rules like "don't add sugar to your coffee and reduce alcohol intake," but I never added sugar to mine, and I barely drink alcohol anyway. Whatever I'd do, it was never enough. And now I can see my body change even though I'm doing "everything right." My medication influences pretty much everything, my hormones are completely fucked up. I have it on paper. I can prove that it's not my choice, but my fault, and yet... I'll go to the doctor and hear the same "advice" given to me again and again - "you should lose weight."

I should, shouldn't I? Lose all the weight of my body and consciousness. Move more - away from everything and everyone. Eat less - until I disappear. I won't be a problem if I don't exist. I won't be a problem if nobody has to look at me.

I'm coming to you helpless, looking for support. Struggling, searching for answers to my questions for solutions that I can actually implement. Things that I can actually control. And you... you tell me that everything that's wrong is my fault. All because you think that I didn't eat less and move more.

[chronicalchronicles]

I went to a doctor today and allowed myself to be a little bit more open and stand up for myself just a little bit this time. I told them, that I'm confused and unsure about my diagnosis, and asked if there's something we could do to confirm it. They got visibly upset telling me, that I came to them and told them about the diagnosis, so it's kinda on me, they just trusted me. But I also got this information from a person that I trusted, however I am not a professional, and the previous doctor could've also made a mistake - just as humans do. I didn't manage to get them to start everything from scratch, but there was a small win nevertheless - they promised me to consult other doctors about my case and continue with researching in one way or another. I am proud of myself, but also disappointed in the doctor and their lack of empathy and understanding. How can you be angry at a patient for wanting to be properly diagnosed and possibly blaming them for other doctor's mistakes?

I am going to give them a chance and see what will come from this. But I also promised myself that if I don't get what I need, next year at the latest, I'll search for another doctor and try to confront the current diagnosis.

It is already hard, though. I've been to so many doctors so many times this year that I feel like I'm constantly travelling back and forth only for that. Also , the courier lost a package with my meds. I don't even have energy and money to deal with it right now. I hope that it will appear somewhere...

[chronicalchronicles]

I am usually very hard on myself - regretting all the things I did wrong, wishing, I've done more, better, that I was smarter and so many other things. But the truth is that I always did my best. And that isn't just a saying. I don't know why, but yesterday I suddenly felt a great amount of gratitude towards myself. I was playing in the water during an aqua fitness class and felt genuinely happy to be there. I love water, but I'm not a good swimmer. I learnt swimming only a little but, because I asked my sister to teach me, but I haven't been swimming anymore for long, long years. I was very nervous to attend the classes for the first time - not only because of the poor swimming skills, but also because of a new place and new social situation - I am extremely self-conscious and had no idea how it could look like. The first time went well, though, and I have been attending classes every week since then. Every time I go there (except from the first), I also do some swimming by myself and learn not to panick in the water. I feel like each time I feel more calm and sure just being in the water, even with my poor swimming skills.

And I am proud of myself and grateful to myself for doing things despite being terrified of them. For taking care of myself. For finding joy in the existence full of hardships and obstacles. The trust is that I've been a much better parent to myself than my parents would ever be. It is hard to be a parent and a child at the same time. I definitely had many people in my life who also supported me and helped me to learn new things, but I don't want to leave my own efforts and successes unrecognised.

Thank you, me. You are awesome.

[chronicalchronicles]

I wish I was somebody else. Or at least a relatively "normal" and healthy version of me. Every time I express it, I hear, "But other people struggle too. You just don't see it. They don't have it better. " Other people's default isn't being sick. They only go to the doctor when something actually happens to them. Other people can walk, sit, and lie without pain. Other people don't get scared about changes in their bodies every day. Other people feel their emotions without analysing them. Other people just love and like people and stuff, without obsessing about them. Other people don't live in fear of losing that obsession and not being able to reignite the spark. Other people don't waste half of their lives on silent suffering. I know I'm not alone in my struggles, I know there are people who also have it worse. But most people don't experience that. I have the right to be angry and sad about it. It feels so unfair not to be one of those people who live their lives without even thinking how easy it is. I wish I was healthy. I wish I was normal. I wish I was someone else.

[chronicalchronicles]

Don't you find it ironic that mushrooms can go mouldy? It's a fungal war if you think about it. Apparently, someone has already thought about it before (which is not surprising, I'm convinced that I don't have a single original thought) and asked if it could be considered a form of cannibalism. Apparently, two fungi can be more distantly related than a human and a fish, if we were to believe that reddit user who posted that comment (the fact that there's no clear definition of what a "fish" is is another story).

Below is a picture of the fungal war generated using dalle, just for funsies.

[chronicalchronicles]

I talked to my grandpa today. On the phone, because I we're living in different countries (I moved a couple of years ago). He is 90 years old and the only older person in my immediate family that I still willingly talk to. Despite his age, he remains the most open-minded person above 40 and the only one who accepts me at least partially. But even he wishes that I would change. Today, I mentioned going to the gym, and he asked if I had lost some weight yet. Why... why are you doing this to me, grandpa? No, I didn't lose any weight, and I don't think that I will. I am not even trying to anymore because of how traumatic dieting was and how pointless it really is. I was always "the fat one" among my friends and siblings, even 30 kg before my current weight. And the people who would humiliate me the most because of that were the people who were supposed to accept and support me - my family. These days, I don't even want to see them anymore. I prefer not to visit my home country, and the number one reason is fear from hearing those comments. They just can't help themselves and always bring up weight, more or less directly. And I haven't learnt to be loudly angry yet, I haven't learnt to scream "fuck off" in their faces, I'm just sitting there quietly, smiling, trying to deflect, trying to laugh with them, with tears forming in my eyes. No matter how old I am, I am still this child, humiliated in front of family members, friends, doctors, and total strangers. If I don't have to meet people, I'd rather not, often just because I don't want to risk getting some more unsolicited advices, weird looks, laughs, hateful comments. Why won't you just let me be. Why can't you love me, for who I am, without making it about my fatness. Why is it such a crime in this good for nothing world to simply exist while being fat? It was supposed to be a calm day. Why am I crying again?

[chronicalchronicles]

One of the things many people will never understand is how much your body can change in a short period of time. And how hard can it be. Especially with the stigma around weight and other properties that for many people would be a sign, that you're "not taking care of yourself." I've been changing weight for years (sometimes losing, but mostly gaining), and I've been called fat almost all the time. I've gained so much more weight since I was called fat for the first time. And all the time, it was all blamed on me, even by doctors, no matter what I'd do. As if they were forgetting all these meds they prescribed me and all these illnesses they diagnosed me with - "weight maintenance" - somehow is still my responsibility. I've developed a terrible fear of medical professionals because each time I go to the doctor, I hear how I should lose weight. I'm excercising regularly, my diet is quite decent, I'm pretty fucking sure that all these steroids you pack my body with are not helping. And all these hormonal changes. But I don't say it out loud, I just nod my head and keep quiet, because if I only open my mouth to try and defend myself, I know I'll burst into crying that I won't be able to stop. Every day, I look into the mirror and try to soothe myself, try to love my body no matter what, because it's the only one I have. But at the same time, I'm aware of how people see me, and I can't change that. I don't even care about losing weight anymore, I just hope it stops changing. I pray for being able to get used to my body in its shape, I pray for not having to exchange the whole wardrobe every couple of months, I pray into the void, I don't think anyone is listening anyway. Recently, I developed stretch marks in new places - it's not even weight gain anymore, it's hormones. My body is covered with stripes pretty much everywhere below my neck. I am ashamed to get naked, I'm wondering how my boyfriend doesn't seem to notice them. Doesn't he care, or is he just nice? I'm afraid to ask. I wouldn't get naked in front of any other potential sexual partner now, I just can't, even though I know that my value isn't defined by that and stretch marks are normal. Well, mine aren't really "normal". I'm used to having them since I was a teenager, but I haven't gotten used to this new pattern yet. The cracks in my skin are like cracks in my soul, making me so vulnerable to the outside. If I don't ever get better, could I at least not keep getting worse?

[chronicalchronicles]

So tired

Another day, another struggle. I am so tired of being unwell. People without chronic illnesses have no idea how exhausting it is. I seem to function well - I wake up, I work full time, I do my chores. But at the same time I’ve had so many doctor appointments this year, I can’t even count them. And then this test, that test again. New meds, new doses, new symptoms, new side effects, so again - new tests, new doses...etc.  New things come every day and sometimes I don’t even know if I should care or just ignore them. How normal are these changes in my body? Do I have to be concerned or just accept that it’s my life for now? And the doctors... they don’t even seem to care. Why is it me who has to know what to do and suggest tests and treatments? Aren’t they the ones who should know better? I feel so fucking helpless. I wish someone could just test everything and tell me what to do without sending me to the next doctor, and the next, and the next. Without the meds that are supposed to “fix me” ruining other parts of my life. And and the end somehow I am still the one to blame for everything - the weight gain, the lack of energy, lack of time, lack of social life, the symptoms, the struggle... I CAN’T SIMPLY PUSH THROUGH IT ALL. We were not all given the same 24h a day - some of us have to spend so many of them at the clinics, trying to book appointments, trying to make sense out of all this. And now I am so overwhelmed by everything that any additional problem, no matter how small, sends me down spiraling. Sometimes the only thing that keeps me from ending it all, is the knowledge, that I still couldn’t enjoy the peace of being fine (for once), because there wouldn’t be me anymore. But if I learned at some point that I don’t have much time left to live, sometimes I think, that maybe I’d feel more relieved than scared. I am scared of non-existence. I am scared of death. But I am also scared of living like that. Probably the worst thing though is the loneliness. I know I am not the only one in the world with similar struggle. I know, that there are people, who understand. But nobody around me does. My friends, my family - they may empathise, but they don’t know how incredibly soul-crushing it is. And I usually don’t even try to explain, because I don’t want them to get tired of my constant complaining. So I am just suffering alone, trying to shift my focus onto things I can influence. It is just so difficult. So tiring.