Autoimmune Disease

You’re sorry.

“I’m sorry that I don’t know what you’re feeling!”

It’s always said out of anger; I think because you’re tired of me “not trying” – such that its obvious to you.

Or

Maybe because I don’t have the energy to fight.

Maybe because I don’t have the energy to feel such an intense emotion,

Maybe because I’d rather spend the rare time that I do get with you, with you.

I’m sorry that you can’t “understand”…

That my ribs hurt too badly to breathe.

That my head is excruciatingly throbbing with every sound that tickles my ear drums.

The chronic sinusitis that aches from my face to my ears, and down the sides of my neck.

How raw and swollen my throat is, just from the post nasal draining.

That my senses are so sensitive sometimes, they cause me extreme anxiety.

How in the morning, it’s hard for me to move quickly, because all my joints feel as though they’re fused together as one.

That my eye lids are too heavy to want to leave the house, along with the extreme risk of illness exposure that leaving the house causes for me.

The frustration of dry, itchy skin, and

Not knowing if you’re going to be allergic to an everyday product that I coat over my skin.

You don’t understand the amount of self awareness as well as environmental awareness each second of my life requires.

You’re sorry that you don’t understand…

How much it takes away from a woman to not use anything that contains fragrances.

When my rib cartilage is too swollen for me to get a breath in so that I can help you see what’s wrong.

That my muscles tighten from the pain, giving me huge knots all over my body.

That my skin is something I fight against every day just to keep in its moisture – but without my face breaking out or becoming a lovely bright shade of red.

How when my pain relaxes, my body can move comfortably while breathing in and then out, resulting in my need for some serious sleep or a list of house work to catch up on.

You’re sorry that:

I “get mad” when you want to leave the house and I want to stay home.

I take prescription medicationmeabt to suppress my immune system to prevent my body from attacking itself (and leaves me open to come down with any illness I may be exposed to).

Sometimes, I see double.

My body temperature has no regulation – and that i am intolerant to both hot and cold.

I have to watch more than carefully the food I eat, so that I do not eat something that contains one of my body’s allergies (so we can’t eat out much because I can never be too careful, and I almost always get sick anyways).

You’re sorry because:

I’ve lost any reliable friend – due to their refusing to forgive in any way, better yet, for their lack of interest and “love” that they refuse to reflect towards me.

Because I’m too nauseous to eat sometimes.

I can’t work.

You’re sorry that you’re unable to understand all that celiac, fibromyalgia, Sjögrens, depression, and anxiety cause me to be, to have, to lose, to deal with, to adapt to, and to live through…

You’re sorry because

“I can’t understand your pain!”

I’m not sorry that you can’t.

 

I got up late again today
And I’m scared of everything
I don’t dare to dream
I guard a dark imagination
These hours waste away
A debt I’ll never pay

I’m talking to the walls
But the walls keep caving in
They amplify my thoughts
I really want a conversation
But I let it slip away
A debt I’ll never pay

Worry, worry, oh
It’s funny how it changes
Well nothing really changes at all

Am I jaded?
Am I meant to feel this way?
I’m a loser, getting beat by my own game
But if I falter, well at least it was my mistake
Oh, at least it was my mistake
‘Cause I choose to be this way
I’m a loser, and I self-deprecate
So when I falter, well at least it was my mistake

I saw my friend today
She tried to comfort me
But I turned her away
There’s magic in this misery
So no matter what you say
I don’t think I’ll ever change

Worry, worry, oh
It’s funny how it changes
Well nothing really changes at all

Am I jaded?
Am I meant to feel this way?
I’m a loser, getting beat by my own game
But if I falter, well at least it was my mistake
Well at least it was my mistake
‘Cause I choose to be this way
I’m a loser, and I self-deprecate
So when I falter, well at least it was my mistake

And I don’t really care about what anyone says
I don’t give a damn about what anyone says
I don’t want to think about anything
I don’t want to think about anything
And I don’t really care about what anyone says
I don’t need opinions hanging over my head
I don’t really care about anything
I don’t really care
I don’t really care at all

Am I jaded?
Am I meant to feel this way?
I’m a loser, getting beat by my own game
But if I falter, well at least it was my mistake
Well, at least it was my mistake
‘Cause I choose to be this way
I’m a loser, and I self-deprecate
So when I falter, well at least it was my mistake

Well, at least it was my mistake
Well, at least it was my mistake

-“My Mistake” by Gabrielle Alpin

 

 

❤️☀️🦋,

Bailey

2 thoughts on “You’re sorry.

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