hey, i hope you read this

Well... even my honesty?

I wrote an essay on honesty a few weeks ago. I guess it took that for me to realize that I’m not really honest at all. I feel like I can’t be, maybe like I don’t deserve to feel like this, but I guess it’s time to tell my truth.

I tend to live behind a mask, a front I suppose. It’s pretty easy to do, I’ve learned. Sometimes easier than showing the truth, often actually. There is something so difficult about transparency, something so humiliating.

This illness has taken over my life. Everything I do, every decision I make, every way I live my life, is all because of it. It has made me, me, the good and bad. That’s the reality. It may seem a little far fetched but really, it controls me, there’s not any real way around it. So maybe this illness does define me, at least for right now, because without it, who am I?

Maybe I don’t know.

These past few weeks I can truly say have been some of the hardest in my life, but no one would have known. I didn’t allow anyone to look in. I didn’t allow the truth to be known. Why do I do this?

I often get upset that people don’t understand, upset that people don’t realize. But, still will not drop the act. Why is it so hard to release? Why is it so easy to hide? Why can’t I stop?

Maybe vulnerability is hard, perhaps a double edged sword.

I’m not ok, I’m broken. Life hasn’t been linear. It’s not fair. Why can’t I shake this? Why can’t I take my own advice? Why can’t I be ok? What am I doing wrong?

Sometimes it just hurts. Sometimes that’s all.

Well, that’s not fair.

I thought getting a diagnosis would be the hardest part. I thought that was my saving grace. I thought by spring I’d be back in school. I thought by June I’d be going on vacation with my best friend. I thought by August I’d be running again. I thought by fall I’d be back to school. I thought by winter, I’d be cured. It’s April. I am not.

Maybe that’s my fault.

I did all I could. With what I was given, I did all I could. I constantly have this mental battle with myself, did I really do all I could? I could have worked harder, I always could’ve. I should have worked harder. I often think to myself, if I really wanted to get better, I would do all it takes... So why didn’t I? Why don’t I?

I couldn’t. I can’t. That should be enough. But it’s not, not for me. I could have always done more. I should have always done more. I should be doing more. Always more.

I don’t trust myself. I don’t believe myself. I am constantly being manipulated and the manipulator is me…

For half my life I’ve been sick. I went undiagnosed for eight years. I thought I was crazy for eight years. I thought that I was just weak. I thought this was just me. I was the problem... I am the problem.

It’s hard to reverse what’s been pumped into you half your life. No one believed me, no one knew, I didn’t know. I was thought to be a lazy, anxious kid that didn’t want to try at life. I was told I was fine. I was told it was just me. I was told I was wrong. I was taught not to believe myself.

So, I stopped believing myself, and I have since.

It’s not anyone else’s fault. They had no way of knowing. Assuming is very easy, and I didn’t know any different anyway. I believed their assumptions because that was all I thought I could do. I became very good at hiding it, hiding what was real. It’s easy to learn when it’s your only choice. I was just a kid who wasn’t good at life, a kid who didn’t have enough grit, a kid who was a failure.

In my mind, I’m still that kid. That kid is never going away.

As much as I hear otherwise, as much as I’m told how strong or how inspiring I am, it doesn’t go away. I don’t know the last time I actually believed a compliment I was given. It’s not true. I’m just fooling you.

This vision of myself is a cataract in my eye, no matter what is shown to me I can never seem to shake this thick cloud. I am who I always was.

I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel inspiring. I don’t feel smart. I don’t feel like a good person.

I don’t know how I ever will.

It sticks. And it doesn’t end. The comments keep coming. They hurt more than ever.

“What happened to you?” “Are you really still sick?”

Yeah actually, and by the way- I’ve been sick for eight years, not only the year you’ve known about it…

“Are you sure it’s not all in your head?” “Are you sure that’s all you can do?” “Are you sure you’re really that sick?” “Are you sure there’s no easier fix?” “Have you tried this..?”

No actually, thanks for reminding me. I’ll do better. (Well, no, I probably won’t.)

Manipulation is dangerous, I know it all too well.

I can’t change the past, but I sure can rip myself apart wishing I can.

And that’s all on me.

I’m just a kid. At the end of the day, I'm still just a kid.

It doesn’t feel right. Why am I allowing myself to be so mentally distraught? I should be fine, well I shouldn’t, but I should. Why can’t I control this? I should be able to. I have all the pieces to the puzzle, why do I fail to put it together?

Why can’t I help myself? Why won’t I help myself? Why am I stuck chasing this light that keeps running farther and farther away?

Why is this happening? How is this fair? What have I done wrong?

I will probably never get those questions answered. That hurts.

I don't understand. I should have figured out by now...

My life isn't how I thought it would be, it isn't how I dreamed it would be. It's not fair, and it's hard to not be frustrated with God, and that really hurts. Why is He doing this to me? Why hasn’t He cured me yet? Why isn’t He listening to me? Is He even hearing me? I feel bad for thinking this, but it’s really hard to believe when things are still not changing. Having faith without proof is hard, but I also know it’s all I have, and it’s the only thing that’s gotten me this far, but that doesn’t make it much easier.

Truthfully, I don’t know where to go from here and I don’t know how anything is going to work out- ever. I’m thankful for this illness, it’s taught me a lot and it’s made me who I am, but I still wish it could be any other way. I’m destroying myself trying to figure out how to help myself. Now that, that is hard to say. But, I guess it’s time for honesty.

With all of this, though, please don’t pity me, please just believe me.

I am right where I need to be and so are you, but this cataract is growing, blocking all that may actually be true… all I want to believe, yet don’t know how to.

Check out:

“Not Right Now”- by Jason Gray