I think that when you're overstimulated you should appear kind of grayed out and no one should be able to interact with you like a locked character in a video game

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@spoonieboy
I think that when you're overstimulated you should appear kind of grayed out and no one should be able to interact with you like a locked character in a video game
Well obviously I can’t have chronic fatigue, that’s a real problem for real disabled people that’s diagnosed by doctors probably. Clearly I just have some sort of perpetual exhaustion issue, that is also almost certainly my fault somehow
cw: mental hospital, mistreatment, brief suicide mention
every once in awhile i think about when i was in the grippy sock center. they gave me prozac one of the mornings and by the time we went out to the courtyard, it was already impacting me. I looked up at the 3 story roofline, spotted an access door i hadn't noticed before, and immediately caught myself wondering how to get up there so i could jump. this was a new feeling, tho the nuance is hard to describe. i also had a sudden increase in agitation and couldn't control myself. didn't help that they sent a girl home who explicitly told us she wasn't ready & she'd end it if they sent her back. and they still sent her home. I couldn't contain my anger and went to the bedroom, flipped the mattress against the wall, and beat it until i was a sobbing mess on the bare bed frame.
my 'tantrum' earned me a visit with the head doc to discuss my behavior. I told them I couldn't take it again tomorrow, that i hated how i felt and they told me that that was impossible - that it was all in my head. (to a fucking mental health patient!!!) 💀 So i tried to explain that i metabolize meds faster than most but she cut me off, told me i was lying, and that i couldn't POSSIBLY feel the effects of the meds for at least 2 weeks. i tried to have calm words but had a meltdown instead. i don't remeber what happened afterwards.
next morning, i flat out refused the meds. luckily it was my favorite nurse and when she pushed a lil to try and encourage me to take it, i broke down crying, told her what happened, and she stopped. She took the meds back and seemingly had words with the prescribing doc bc i had a new med to try a short while later in the day.
lo & behold, i have eds! meds process Hella fast for me. its almost like thats a thing! 🤔 surprise, surprise!
i just wanna go back & give that lady a proper bitch slap and a stern talking to, frankly. i cannot fathom how someone so rude & callous was supposed to be in charge of all these broken kids. i, at 14, voluntarily checked myself into a mental hospital because i was ready to end my life. thats not the sort of situation where you talk down to, insult, and berate someone!! you treat them with gentle compassion and kindness! like they fucking need!!!!!
ugh.
the only things i'm grateful for in that time were the two therapy dogs, occupational therapy, art therapy, the math teacher who was so kind, gentle, and understanding - and the fact that they ended up taking 12 vials of blood to discover that my entire ass thyroid had completely dumped itself. i ended up needing levo for 2 years afterwards.
abt that math teacher, i was so defensive bc i was really struggling with math at the time and had never been treated at my own pace before, but this guy was nothing but sweet, patient, and encouraging. he didn't make fun of me for what i didn't know, didn't pressure me to go faster, just celebrated what i did manage to accomplish and gently helped me through the items i was struggling with. when i couldn't bring myself to do the math, he let me tidy up & organize his classroom, which was relaxing for me. that guy was a Prime example of the type of person who should be working there. math, in that short time, became somewhere i wanted to linger rather than run from because i felt safe there. thank you, mr. math teach. i wish i remembered your name. i appreciate you more than you know.
anyways, if you've read this far, why? honestly? lol. but idk, thank you for letting me share. writing this down helped me let go of some of those angry feelings i've been holding onto about it.
if you need to go to a mental hospital in VA, try to avoid the richmond one 💀 thats all i'll say.
nothing like leaning into what you think is a rib coming back in from a sublux, only to fully fucking dislocate that fucker. its like thinking you're just gonna fart and shitting yourself. so mad. so betrayed 💀
(i managed to get it back in but that shit fucking HURTS)
why do i have a neurological disorder, huh? praytell, bitch? praytell.
Moment of silence for all the heat sensitive disabled ppl as the world actively tries to kill us this summer
do able-bodied people not understand that if disabled people call out of work every time they don't feel good that we would call out of work every fucking day?
like honestly. what do you think being disabled means?
there's something so raw and soul crushing about spending your late childhood+teen years suicidal then growing up and actually wanting to live, after an ungodly effort, only to see your health deteriorate because of chronic illness.
feeling like the health inspector
absence of a diagnosis does not guarantee the absence of an illness
if someone you know has been suffering yet a doctor says nothing is wrong, which has happened to a majority of chronically ill people at some point, you have a choice. you can either believe the doctor that you probably never met, or believe the person suffering. and I cannot emphasize enough how absolutely damaging it is for a sick person to not be believed.
I fluctuate wildly between "My poor body is doing its best and I should be nice and help it out," and "Stupid bastard body hates me and sabotages literally everything I try to do ever. It deserves this."
Tonight's flavor of chronic pain is: every things hurts but a little bit to the left.
10/10 would not recommend
this is the Bun of Spoons. reblog to share in her magics of abundant spoons.
i love it when my body not only flares but also gives me tiny pinches made of pure hatred every couple of minutes in a new random spot just to keep me on my metaphorical toes (and off my real ones)