the loneliness of illness

I love my new desk set up in the corner of our living room. It is under a window and even though I can see our neighbor's driveway of trucks, I can also look up and see the power lines (which I strangely adore--good bird perches), and all the trees. It's foggy out and the sky looks like white tissue. My nose tickles. My sides hurt. I haven't showered in two days. But here I am sitting at my desk, and that's something good.

I wish I felt good enough to have a career. I kind of want to be a teacher, or a designer, or a florist. Mainly I want to not be sick all the time. I also want to be a mom but that is another story for another day. Maybe one day. For now I'll muddy through and try to make my own way. 

I really wish there was a book for people who are chronically and or mentally ill...not going-to-die ill, but ill enough that they can't build an average type life and it just gave advice and thoughts on how to plan and live day to day in a fulfilling way that made sense to them. I feel so weird and seriously like the only person who doesn't look sick but is sick, who isn't going to die, but sometimes is. It's such a weird mess of stuff, it's so hard to wrap my head around. I feel so alone and different in it.

I don't know, I just always thought sick people knew what they were doing. That sounds horrible, but I just thought that doctors told them what to do and it was all planned out. Like this is your treatment plan, and this is what you need to do to get better...1, 2, 3. But it's not like that. My doctors don't know how to make me better, there is no cure for this shit so far, and really they don't even know what's wrong entirely. I feel so lost and thats horrifying because each day that goes by is a day of my life, a day I could be better, could be doing something other than going to doctors appointments or sobbing my eyes out.

Then dealing with depression is a whole other mess. My doctor has plans for making me better and I am getting better in a lot of ways. But then there are boxes of pills twice a day and therapy twice a week and my life revolves around dealing with all this crazy childhood crap and weird thinking I have, and it is just an exhausting mess because all I'm saying is I don't feel happy or good inside. And then I basically have to feel worse by going to those dark places and working through them for years in order to feel better. And don't get me wrong, I am getting better, but I'm still sad so much of the time. I still don't know if life is worth living. It fucking sucks.

--Maybe I need to be the one writing this book? Might be a good idea.

xo, C


  1. Hi, i've been reading your blog for a while now and i can really relate to what you say about wishing you could have i career--i wish i could too! I've suffered from anxiety and depression for years as well, ever since childhood. It's so frustrating to feel like i'm always at the beginning, just trying to get my life started and not being able to get it off the ground. It can take all the strength i can muster just to make it through the days and still see myself as failing to make the progress others are able to, that i sense i could be able to as well if only the depression and anxiety would loosen their grip. I think you are very courageous to be facing the things that cause you anguish as well as sharing some of what you go through in this blog. I'm wishing you all good things and that your dreams will one day come to fruition! When you wrote that you wanted to find a book about the struggles of living with invisible illness, my first thought was perhaps you could be the one to write it...

  2. Thanks so much for the comment Cara! I'm sorry you are in a similar situation. I am thinking about writing the book, so thanks for the encouragement! Feel free to send me a note any time! You can also find my email address in the contact me tab. :)

    xo, C


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