Let’s all take a moment to be very honest with ourselves. If we looked the way we felt 99% of the time none of us would look all too great.
This isn’t something that is specific to my condition. This is something anyone can deal with.
Got a UTI?
Getting over a cold?
No one is going to proudly display the dark circles under their eyes, and lots of makeup companies have perfected concealer to hide just that.
But I’ll put up with your looks. Your confused faces. Your attempted sympathetic “well I hope you feel better” as I rush away from work.
Because there’s no way you can ever SEE the pain and the symptoms I’m experiencing. Sure my pupil is literally taking over the entire blue part of my eye… but hey I’m probably just stoned or something.
I don’t know how you’d be able to see that my body is saying hey if you don’t get into a dark room right now, lay down, and try and consume some food I’m going to ensure you spend tonight in the ER.
I also can’t expect everyone I work around to have any sort of level of understanding. Luckily some people do and don’t even question my “I’m not doing good, I really need to go home for the day”
They don’t ask for an explanation because they don’t really need one.
I work part time. This past week I worked over 40 hours. We’re short staffed and its summer so it really shouldn’t be a problem for me to pick up extra hours. But I’m also disabled and battling a condition that drains my energy, so working so many extra hours is bound to take its toll.
So here I am. Home from work. My head stopped throbbing, the nausea subsided, but everything is heavy. I have no appetite. I could probably sleep for days and I do think my body would let me.
I was able to lay down.
Maybe I could have prevented this whole thing… I mean of course I could have to some extent… but my medication is gone. The bottle is empty. I might be able to get a refill early this week, but that doesn’t seem to be the luck I’m having.
I had to go into one of the busiest weekends at my company unarmed.
But I can’t just not go to work because I’m out of medication.
But it means I’m at work, and I feel as if I’ve been hit head on by a train and there’s blood smeared everywhere and my guts are falling out.
Yet, if I felt that way there’d be no way my eyeliner would be even and my hair curled and my clothes pressed.
But they are.
That’s the difference. I will always “look” like I’m doing good. My condition doesn’t cause skin flare ups. I’m not missing any limbs. Even though my face and my neck and my shoulders feel as if they are severely bruised, they aren’t.
So my point is, if you have no reason to believe that I’m faking it and just trying to get off work, save you fake pity for someone else.
If I wanted to make it obvious I could have easily just thrown up on your shoes, but I didn’t.
I don’t want you to see the pain. I don’t want you to see what comes if I don’t get home. Me curled up in some corner shivering and sweating and rocking back and forth with a cold water bottle pressed on my neck isn’t a pretty picture.