Here I go mixing things up before things have really taken off. My featured picture is intended to represent the way chronic illnesses and disabilities are only really seen in black and white. My words are intended to fill in all that grey space that is ignored. But today I needed a little color. Because at the end of the day, there’s a lot of brightness and light and hope that is key component to my every day battle.
So here’s a sneak peak and my brand new apartment.
I think I’ve spent the last 4 or 5 years waiting for the day that I had a place of my own. Not because I wanted freedom to do what I pleased or had the same urge to be an adult and do adult things. I in no way want to make anyone think that adulting is fun or recommended for anyone.
I didn’t want my own place. I needed it. I needed to not have to snarl at my parents for running the garbage disposal or cutting the grass when my head hurt too badly to get out of bed. I couldn’t take one more late night potluck or get together held at home, when I needed to sleep. I couldn’t take the constant face of disappointment or discontent from everyone I’ve lived with – regardless of how much they cared or wanted to help.
As much as everyone refuses to admit it, living with someone with chronic migraine who can’t have the smell of perfume around ever, or a scented candle, or even some foods some nights… who can’t have lights on… who can’t have any background noise (tv, quiet music, dishes, you name it) at the most inconvenient times… who doesn’t want to have to express that I’m in pain… is about one of the LARGEST inconvenience that can be put on someone. Me living with just about anyone is a burden. And don’t bother telling me it isn’t. Because I am completely 100% aware that it is. Even if it’s a loved one. I am a burden with everything that I need.
So after living in dorms and apartments with strangers and with family, I have finally acquired a place all to my own.
I can go to bed when I want, even if it is 2:00 in the afternoon.
I can shut all my blinds and make the place as dark as possible (still desperately waiting on this next paycheck so I can buy curtain rods because I miss my black out curtains like nothing else).
I can cook what I want. I can buy the groceries that I want.
But the best part is, I don’t have to explain myself. If I wake up in agonizing pain, I don’t have to say anything. I can take my medicine, go back to bed, take my time getting up. I don’t have to let someone know that I’m not doing my best so they’re going to have to be aware of what they do that day.
If I can’t eat, I can’t eat. If I’m too nauseous to engage in anything, I don’t have to. I can just sit. I can just breathe. I can just wait until it passes. I don’t have to try and have a conversation through the pain. I don’t have to deal with triggers produced by other people, because no one else is here.
I don’t have to feel like I’ve imposed on anyone. And that’s been a feeling I’ve been craving for a very long time.
Yes it’s true, that no one is here to check in on me or bring me water or make me tea or scratch my back or rub my head but that’s okay. This isn’t anyone’s fight but my own. And if I get to the point where I have to rely on everyone else to exist, then there’s going to be a lot more issues and I’ll probably be hooked up to some machine in a hospital anyway.
So here’s to the peace of mind that this new place has brought me and hope that being able to better control my environment allows me to identify what makes my migraines worse so I can get better.