A Little Less Alone

I missed writing yesterday because I was tied up with doctor appointments. Appropriate considering that this is Invisible Illness Awareness Week, no? Anyhow, by the time I got home, I was emotionally and physically drained and in no condition to write. Also I came home to a copy of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened in my mailbox courtesy of a very sweet friend. So I spent the remainder of yesterday reading and laughing and definitely not writing.

Many people have asked me why I blog about my life with chronic illness. Obviously, not any of you wonderful people, because you get it, but other people. Non-Internet people. My answer has always been some version of “maybe my writing will help someone else who is struggling.” In honesty, that’s only half true.

I write because it’s cathartic to me. Because putting the swirling thoughts in my mind to paper or computer screen means there are not so many still swirling in my mind. Because seeing my thoughts laid out in a blog post makes them a bit more real and I feel slightly less crazy.

And because you all get it.

Your comments show me I’m not alone, I’m not the only one who feels this way. I’m not the only person who wonders what’s wrong with singing along to Air Supply.

And also because one dreary day early in my battle with RA, I stumbled across your blogs. Blogs that weren’t all funny cat pictures or videos of the evolution of dance. Blogs that had real words, real thoughts, real feelings. These real blogs opened my eyes to how many of us are out here struggling to get by. How many of us are praying against hope that there is someone out there like us. And how many of us are so very alike.

Those blogs helped me slump out of a crawling depression. They let me know it was okay to show weakness. They helped me to start writing again. They showed me my words could be real.

Sure, I might still share some silly, pointless things. But my words are here so that you all can know that you’re not alone. I’m here. And I’m just as fucked up as the next person. And it’s okay. I’m maintaining. It IS possible to talk about depression, anxiety, disease, and illness without being ashamed.

And when you find me and feel a little less alone, you help me to feel a little less alone, too.

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