Tired

Tired.

Tired of trying to do what I feel like other people expect of me.

Tired of trying to push through the pain. Mostly because other people don't understand how I feel.

I wondered tonight if I need to try to somehow LOOK like I'm sick. I don't know exactly how to really look like I'm in pain when I'm in pain. I'm pretty used to trying to not look like I'm in pain.

I try to stay quiet when I feel especially sick.

It's just been tough lately trying to be as honest as possible with people and knowing that they can't possibly understand. I don't fault them. I just feel tired about it.

Next week is my birthday. I decided today that I was not going to pretend to not be sick on my birthday. I need a day just to be sick. Do you know what I mean? Someone will probably decide they need to DO something. They don't understand that NOT doing something is exactly what I want to DO. I don't know how to say what I've said any differently to help them see what can't be seen. I feel badly for both of us. For them because I don't know how to help them understand, and for me because I often feel misunderstood.

I'm just tired. I hurt. I think I would like a break from this. Some would look at my life and say that my life is a break. haha. I guess if you were on the outside looking in it would appear to be an easy life considering I only have a comparatively small window of functioning during the day/evening. Is that easy? I don't know. How do I know what's going on in other people's heads or lives...

I think of what I do that feels like such an accomplishment to me and how others expect me to keep going after I've done all I can.

Other people can handle mornings. They have a full day. I don't have mornings, really. I'm either in bed, or if I'm up it's because I feel like I absolutely have to be up for something. I know I will pay for it later with increased body ache and fatigue. I try to explain to people but their world is the world at large and my small world doesn't fit into their vision. I try. But, I'm tired. It's my fault if I keep trying and trying without screaming at the world, "NO!" No guilt. No shame. No wounded pride. My honesty falters and I swallow the words: "No, I cannot do it. I cannot push anymore."

It's not fair of me to expect people to see my illness and my efforts that feel gargantuous to me but are invisible to others.

For now, I'm just tired of not being seen.

I helped a woman at the store today who told me the doctor said she couldn't lift any more than ten pounds. I was proud of her for accepting my offer to help. I was proud of her for accepting her limitation. She scooted away on her scooter. I wonder what "ten pounds" really means to us who have a concealed illness. I wonder just how much it really weighs.

carry on.