Being me really pisses me off

I’m going to tell you the truth: I am really pissed off.

I am pissed that my body hates me, that I can no longer eat sweets, or fries, or bread, that I can’t control the tremors in my hands, that my mind doesn’t work the way it should anymore.  I am pissed that I am no longer the person I used to be, that my looming unemployment is doubling frightening because I have so many limitations, that no matter what I can’t seem to get all of my illnesses in check at the same time.

I am just pissed.  And there’s nothing I can do about it any of it. I know I need to accept who I am and find a way to see the good in myself and my life.  But what I really want to do is throw an epic temper tantrum and then hide in my bed under the covers.

Today I just don’t know how to pretend to be “normal” because today I want to answer honestly when someone asks how I am.  I want to spew the truth and tell everyone what is like to live with a chronic illness (or three, in my case) that controls your life.

But I can’t. I know I have to function, I have to say “I’m fine,” I have to find a way to make peace with myself.  But wow, I am pissed today.

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