I mentioned in the post before this one that I'm having a "bad brain day" and ironically, the thing that triggered it--aside from my impending hormonal shift into hell--was because people were nice to me.
It's hard being a professional creative and trying to colab with people and meet deadlines when you also live in a body that is unreliable.
I never know day to day what I'm going to wake up and be capable of. Is my immune system going to set itself on fire? Am I going to be bedridden from a migraine? Is my heart rate going to be so bad I can't even sit up in bed?
That combined with the unmedicated ADHD, I've learned not to give myself hard deadlines, because if I miss too many of them, I'll crash out and spiral into depression and become incapable of doing anything.
It makes me a flake, is what I'm saying. Or rather, it makes other people think I'm a flake and I'm just making excuses. And yes, I have been told this in the past, so I know I'm not just projecting. So whenever I do start trying to work with others, I brace myself for letting them down and try to preempt the RSD by by putting myself down first.
I was already feeling a bit fragile after last week when I had a fellow creative friend assure me not to worry about dropping off the map. They understood the limitations I am dealing with and would be there waiting for me when I got back. And that by itself made me feel a weird mixture of guilt and relief.
Guilt because I wish they didn't have to say that, but also relief because they're willing to work with me as I am and don't expect me to kill myself to keep up with them.
And then earlier this week, after I missed sending a message, I followed up with "sorry for being a flake!" and said person metaphorically took me aside in the DMs and said, "You're not a flake, you're ill. We knew that when we agreed to work with you. We're here for you."
What a relief it is, to be seen.
I am not a flake. I am ill. And I am still worth working with.
