Yesterday I performed a fairly miraculous transformation. I was so impressed with myself that I felt the need to share my handy work. 

I posted the above on Facebook with the caption, left to right & out the door in 40 mins. All of which is true, but there’s so much more I didn’t say. 

What I didn’t mention was how I felt. My head was wobbly yesterday. I am titrating Pregabalin slowly up to recommended dose. This is an issue because every time I up the doseage the side effects come back. Hence, my brain was not that sharp. Along with that my anxiety was troubling me. The thought of going out alone was frightening. I was of course sore; my back & feet are a constant source of pain at the moment. So, basically what I’m saying is the first picture is an accurate representation of how I felt as well as how I looked. 

I worried and procastinated for so long that I only had 40 mins to get ready. I forced myself out the door with the aid of diazepam, earphones & big sunglasses. I still felt exposed. I dreaded anyone talking to me or even getting standing too close. I got lucky with an almost entirely empty bus, but my heart was still pounding as loud as the music in my ears for the entire journey. At every stop I had to force myself not to get off & go home. Every bump in road sent a shudder of pain up my back. I persisted because I’d really like to have a real life. 

I met a dear friend who I feel completely safe with. We had a drinks & I managed to relax to level where I could enjoy myself. The weather was lovely, the company excellent & I passed for an attractive human being. 

I’m smiling in this picture because I was having a lovely time. I was still in pain. I’m always in pain. I say that not for pity, but as a fact. For my one evening’s entertainment I’ll probably require two days of rest. Today I am suffering. 

My point is that invisible illnesses are often attacked as not genuine & the weapon used can be anything sufferers manage to do. 

You can’t be that ill if you can work.

You can’t be so ill if you can go out.

You can’t be in pain if you excerise.

You can’t be depressed if you can put make up on.

And on & on & on.

I’m offering myself as an example. Some days are good, but I never feel ‘normal’. There is always pain & anxiety. There are nightmares & flashbacks & urges to butcher my flesh. There are days when I can’t get out of bed & nights of no sleep at all. It’s shit to have to push & push to accomplish everything. We (spoonies) have no alternative, if we want to build a fulfilling life, we have to fight. Wether we’re fighting to wash some dishes or to have some fun with friends we don’t need judgmental bullshit to add to our burden. 
Your reward for reading me venting my frustrations is the cutest cat in the world.