Saying it Out Loud Makes It Real

I don’t like to admit when something is wrong, I’ll admit when I’m wrong, but not if I’M wrong- yeah? Yeahh.

It’s not a quirk, it’s something that’s been ingrained in me for longer than I can remember. From the time I was young most of my pain would be waved away “It doesn’t hurt that bad, you’ll be fine.” It was because I was bringing attention to myself in a way that was disruptive and upsetting to my family; I can admit that now.

It wasn’t constant mind you, when I was very young I was taken fairly seriously but as I got older it was as if my parents couldn’t believe someone so young could be in so much pain all the time. But I was. We didn’t know it then but it was the migraines and when I started complaining about wrist pains in highschool I was given the “You’re too young for that” and that was it. It was never malice, it was never because they didn’t love me, it was never because they liked seeing me in pain but my parents had pain of their own and I don’t think they knew how to take me seriously.

Toward the beginning of my 4 and a half years at community college (of which I never graduated) my parents finally started seeing me as someone who had a hold of their issues and that’s when they started to listen. These days nobody denies my pain and I am lucky to have a network that listens, despite not always being able to relate.

This paints my parents in a bad light and that’s not what I want people to get out of this. My parents were new parents and they had so much going on during my youth that I very much doubt they had the capacity left to accept their child was chronically ill. Could any of you? They did the best they could despite having some serious personality faults, I don’t blame them, not anymore; Their parents did it to them.

There are some things I’ve never said outloud, never written down or let myself think about for more than a few minutes; things I am rightfully ashamed of and things I am righteously angry about. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold on to these secrets and I don’t know how long it’ll be before they kill me, but I’m hoping I make it to a nice ripe old age before then.