People get tired of carrying the load and of not enjoying a normal life. They have to vent to someone and it's better if it's not you, right? Trouble is, that leads to paranoid imaginings. You begin to imagine your doctor is tired of hearing you whinge and that anyone who once wanted to help has begun to reject you...
On days like this I'm like a bird singing out on a limb. I could endure it except for the sense that someone is behind me with a saw. When you have chronic illness you're especially vulnerable. You're not financially independent anymore and you're unemployable. All the aspirations, talents and skills you've spent a lifetime building can't help you. Of course, I don't really believe these private hellish ravings, but they come anyway, true or not. That's the problem with Hashimoto's. It unleashes all kinds of anxiety that further destroys what little health you have left.
Sometimes, all I need is someone to tell me it's okay, that I'm not a burden, not a loser, and that my courage and hard work do not go unrecognized. Even a round of He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother would lift my spirits, and I really hate that song. But everyone else is tired of this illness, too. The only difference is that I'm the one who has it and I'm the one trapped in circular thinking: Should I mention any of this? Should I cancel this blog post? Will voicing any of this have a negative impact on others and thus be returned to me? Blah blah...
Some days are just like this.
Tweet, tweet.
