Life can get messy when you live with chronic illness. Parts of your life get sacrificed when dealing with flare ups, with the fight against your body and mind, with new ailments appearing and old ones dragging you down.
I've drifted from my friends recently. I've been exhausted, dealing with new pain, with a recurrence of anxiety to do with public appearances, and with a simple desire to hide myself away hermit style and disconnect from the world. I'm aware this isn't healthy, nor is it good for my social sanding or relationships with my friends, but there's not much that can be done about it apart from wait for it to pass. It always does, it may take some time, but it does always eventually go away.
I could force myself out, but I would only end up being miserable and regretting it, and I don't believe someone should be out if that's only going to be the case. Yes, I still do my rugby club duties on a Saturday, and quiz on a Sunday, but they're different that usual socializing. I'm working, it's family, it's comfortable, it's where I want to be. It is bumming me out though, I miss my friends. I miss the laughter, I miss the conversations about things I don't understand and amusing them by the fact it all goes right over my head. I miss not being judged.
I have a feeling that a lot of this anxiety has been upped by not wanting to bump into the guy mentioned in my previous post as I always avoid situations that make me uncomfortable; and because of an incident that happened a few weeks ago. It happened at the rugby club which has made me slightly anxious there when I know the individual involved in the incident could be around, but I know there are others there who like me, trust me, understand me and what I'm going through, and that helps.
The aforementioned incident was ridiculous. I thought so then, I think so now, but that doesn't change the fact that it happened and that it's affected me. The culprit, who will remain unnamed, approached me and asked me what was wrong with me and why I don't work. I replied that I'm generally unwell, how working on a Saturday knocks me for six and that it takes me a few days to recover but that it was totally worth it. She then proceeded to rant at me about how I listen to doctors too much, and that I can't be as ill as I say or have all all the conditions and ailments that I do; that I should simply think positive thoughts and I'll get better, that taking long walks and hikes for charity will make me feel better that I need to stop believing that I'm sick and disabled and then I won't be. She was insulting, ignorant, arrogant and completely oblivious to the damage she was causing me. I was in tears in front of her, I shouted and was very visibly upset and distraught because of her comments and she stood there asking me why I was getting so upset, really not grasping the fact that it was her hurtful words that caused it.
I'm sure there are other factors that I haven't yet considered that are contributing to my despondent state, but I'm certain that this hasn't helped.
I'm getting there. I'm better than I was last week, and I hope things will improve more over the upcoming Christmas period, but it's going to take me time to get back to the point that I'm comfortable being out in public again with my friends. I've still got the shoes that I need to wear to do so, it's just they're giving me blisters, and I'm not ready to try and wear them again.
I hope they understand. I hope they're reading this and nodding knowingly, and realise that I'm not avoiding them, I'm not fobbing them off, I'm just struggling to get by and exist at the moment, and I'm sorry that I'm not around - I really truly am.
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