I Am Real?

So often, I have something to say but the words get in the way of my brain and my brain gets in the way of my mouth. Instead what I meant to say comes out as me being selfish and uncaring. Or maybe caring too much about stuff that doesn’t matter and isn’t going to help me get better. I am struggling. I am struggling to see that in the end everything will be OK. Because I don’t know if it will.

I have faith in God, and I believe that he will see us through, but I look at all I have and I see that it is so much more than others, and I worry that what God will provide will not include the things that I am used to. Unfortunately, faith is not the same as alimony. Sometimes it is what we can get by on, and not so much that we have all that we want or need. It doesn’t matter if we’re used to living a certain way. If we quit our jobs and cease to be monetarily productive in our own lives then we must realize that life may change and the standard of living that we are used to may be altered or lessened.

I pray that God will grant me the things that I desire at the moment… and that is being able to help provide for my family in spite of my illness. I feel like others will not see my illness as I or my family and friends see it. Because I am not physically deformed or handicapped. No one can run a test to see inside my head to see what I am feeling or thinking at any given moment. So what can I do if this doesn’t work? What can be more depressing and debilitating to a depressed individual than to tell them that they’re not “sick” enough to be considered disabled? What do you do when all you want to do is turn away from the world?

My illness is so much worse when I have to work. It’s not so much the work (as it would be for someone with a physical disability), but more the expectation that you be productive. And that if you aren’t productive, or if you don’t show up on those days where it is next to impossible to pull yourself out of bed, then you hear about it. That sometimes just drags me down deeper knowing that when I return I am going to be criticized and hassled and it just makes me not want to get out of bed that much more. What is the point of it all? What is the point of LIVING at all?

You get up, you go to work, you do things you don’t want to to make money to get things that you need and want, but don’t really necessarily enjoy because it was such a hassle to work to get those things. And then if you’re not unable to physically work, but am paralyzed by fear of criticism and demanded productivity, you still have to do it anyway because otherwise you are seen as weak and selfish and a burden on society.

Just because I’m smart and can talk in complete sentences doesn’t mean that I’m OK. It doesn’t meant that I can’t function “normally” most days. Because those days when I can function never seem to make up for the days that I can’t. It doesn’t seem to matter that when I am well I do the job well. But when I am not well, I will certainly hear about my shortcomings. I want to know why people ask you if you’re OK when they can see that you’re not. But when you say you’re not OK they don’t know what to do or what to say. But when you’re fine, no one ever asks if you’re OK.

I hate it when you’re not OK and you tell people you’re not OK that they like to tell you “everyone has bad days, you just need to work through it” but they never give you the chance. Or if you take the chance, they throw you back into that pit of despair by criticizing your being unproductive. What is the big deal about being productive???? What does it really matter if you choose to not work and sit at home in your PJ’s for a week? Does it really hurt anyone? Sometimes trying to make the effort to get up and get showered and dressed and do something just to please others just makes it worse. Why shouldn’t I just sit in my pj’s if it helps me to just BE. It vexes me to have to try to pretend to be OK for the benefit of someone else.

I’m NOT OK. Even when I am OK I’m Still not OK. That’s just how I am. I have been that way as long as I can remember. I don’t know if I know how to be any other way. And if another way came about I don’t know that I would know what to do with it. Any way, this wasn’t pointed at anyone or anything, I’m just rambling..which, of course, is the point of a blog called “Rainy Day Ramblings”


~ by falloutmommy on April 22, 2009.

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