I'm Not Sick But I'm Not Well

I turn 31 today. Last January, during a routine doctor's appointment and while getting blood drawn, the nurse asked me what it was like being 30. I had been 30 all of a handful of days at this point, so I said, "About the same as being 29."

If I had known then that year 30 would be a year of constant pain, loss, and general human suffering, a loop where nothing would go right, I'm not quite sure what I would have said in that moment.

There's something wrong with me, and each time I explain it I feel crazy. Everyone gives the same look, a quick dart to the corner of their eyes to avoid contact. Everyone says the same thing,"Wow." The disbelief is palpable. It's weird, I feel like I'm describing a symptom when I talk about this and yet it's like I'm saying I regularly talk to Barney the dinosaur.

How do you internally react when I tell you that there's an electric sensation in my head? It's near-constant, but comes and goes. It feels most like a zapping, but when I use that word specifically is when I get the most "he's fucking nuts" reactions. It's worse when I move, so most of the spring and summer I was bedridden, afraid to get up and trigger these attacks, these electric storms only I can experience. A hell no one believes in.

It'll be close to a year soon. They began in March. I have no answers or help. I've seen doctors but honestly nothing has changed. They think it's headaches. I get those too, trust me. If this was a headache that would mean I would be living 24/7 in a continual migraine, affecting all my senses. Sounds debilitating. Wait a second.

I applied for disability since I can't work anymore. You can probably tell by the lack of updates on the site. Denied on Christmas. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong, usually in a poetic fashion. The government says I'm going to get better soon. I'm glad they consulted a magic 8 ball.

I'm constantly upset about things I can't control and then get disappointed anyway. I'm unheard in a room where I'm talking. I'm in pain all of the time, but I'm expected to act like a person and not curl into a ball of misery. I'm expected to placate everyone's boring, petty bullshit when I can't get a crumb of help in return.

This is comes down to support systems, insurance systems, and healthcare systems, each slightly more uncaring than the last. Yes, the order is correct. We rely on strapped Italian plumbers to get the message across because no one is listening. We have invisible conditions and disabilities and that's because no one is looking.

We have debt and depression and lack and I don't care anymore. I did the trying. So much trying. I want to be a parasite. I want to bleed it all dry. It's just a small pinch.

Happy new year. There's your update.