P.S. I love you
The world of endometriosis is disgusting. Any chronic illness. It brings so many hardships that most of the time we feel helpless and worthless and disgusting and ugly and horrible and and and…
And then someone takes their life. Because someone, somewhere, didn’t reach their hand out when someone is in need. I have one thing to say to the people that didn’t reach out.
You are beyond sick and selfish.
Not the person who took their life; not them. They were in pain and saw no other choice that to permanently end it. But she cried for help; and no one answered. She had endometriosis. Had endometriosis. Now she’s gone, forever.
When I was first diagnosed with endometriosis, I didn’t take it seriously. That was one of the things I wish I could change. By the time I hit S-III and had a variety of diagnoses to go along with it, I realized the errors of my way.
I can sympathize with the pain this girl felt, both mentally and physically. When I was actively sick, I became very depressed. I had no support network (despite being ‘married’). I tried to talk to people but found that no one really listened. I isolated. I treated my body badly in ways that I am ashamed to say out loud. I pushed those closest to me away because I didn’t think they cared.
Not once did I want to kill myself. Not once did it cross my mind.
But it crossed hers. And she did. And it’s too late for her.
People who are living with someone who has a chronic illness, or are involved with someone who has one, PLEASE PAY ATTENTION**
Whether or not we tell you this, we suffer with chronic depression as a result of this illness. And if we don’t tell you, it’s because we have told someone and they ignored us. Don’t ignore us.
I talk about endometriosis and IC with no filter but I seldom talk about the depression that coincides with them. Why? Because who wants to hear how sad you are, or how sometimes even looking at yourself can make you turn away from mirrors and avoid them? Who wants to hear that this illness takes up 95% of the space inside your brain?
Why are we so depressed? Wouldn’t you be? If all you ever knew in your life was physical and emotional pain, wouldn’t you hurt too?
If you do not have this illness, let me see if I can break the pain down for you so that you can understand. I try to stay formal and respectful in my writing, but I do not have it in me to filter to your needs tonight. So, for tonight only, you get me raw.
Imagine that you’ve cut your finger open and you pour alcohol on it to irrigate it. Now, add some salt. Now, add some tabasco sauce. Now…feel that throughout your body. Nearly twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Do you know how you feel when you have a flu and body aches? Stretch that into your bones as well as skin. Feel like this every day.
Do you know how you feel when you’ve overindulged at holidays and your skin is stretched? Amplify it. And feel like this every day.
Do you know how it feels to sob quietly because you cannot go out to an event because you’re just too tired or it hurts too bad? I do.
Do you know how it feels to cry in a bathroom after sex while you wipe the blood off of you and then go back and pretend nothing’s wrong? I do.
Do you know how it feels to watch other people around you go on with their life and do activities that you cannot do? I do.
Do you know how it feels to be silenced because you’re told it’s all in your head and there’s nothing wrong with you and that you just want attention? I do.
Do you know how it feels to be told you’ve caused your own illness because of emotional trauma you have from being physically/sexually abused? I do.
Do you know how it feels to want to break every mirror in your house some days because you just can’t stand to look in it? I do.
And the girl you’re with knows how every one of those feels too. Don’t ignore her.
The physical pain hurts, but the emotional pain hurts worse. I have lost many friends, family, and partners because of my illness. It’s all fun and games until you’re crying in pain and they feel helpless. Then they get scared. Or annoyed. Or tired. Then they leave.
Not always, but usually.
Guess what? Living with a chronic illness is a full time job, one that we didn’t fucking apply for.
Guess what else? So is being with someone with a chronic illness. It’s not something that everyone can do, and that’s totally understandable. But if you cannot do it, if you just can’t, please go sooner rather than later.
Time cost energy, and we only have so much to go around. I invest my energy in people that I believe to be worth it. Otherwise, I would have none.
Girls, suicide is not an answer. I know how bad it hurts. I know how hopeless it feels. I know how sometimes you wish you had a life without pain, and a life that was “normal”.
Trust me. I know.
But killing yourself isn’t the answer. If you ever feel that way, please, phone a friend, comment on this blog, reach out on Facebook, twitter, any social media you use. You can call the National Suicide Hotline at 1–800–273-TALK. You don’t have to give them your name, you can be anonymous.
You don’t have to end your life. Reach out to someone, anyone!
If you see someone suffering, don’t wait to reach out. You never know how much you’re truly needed. We will never tell you we need you because we already need so much, that we feel like asking for more is taking more from you than we already have.
You are never alone. Even on your darkest days. But please, please, please…I implore you to be kind to your bodies and yourself. Don’t hurt something as beautiful as you are.
Find me, and I will find you.
P.S. I love you.