the other day my mom and i were out for a walk on the canal path when we ran into the parents of an old friend of mine. i’ve been walking a lot lately-- i’m trying to get my endurance back up after everything that’s happened, and my mom is sort of acting as my coach-- but my old friend and her parents are the athletic, outdoorsy types. you know, the kind of people who go camping all the time, who kayak and go for runs and were on sports teams and probably eat kale.
now, i already feel shame whenever i leave the house. i’m mentally and physically disabled, i’ve gained 50 pounds in the past year, and i’m not naive enough to think that i look good through it all. the circles beneath my eyes are scary; if i didn’t wear makeup to hide the majority of them when i went out, i wouldn’t be surprised if most people that saw me thought i was actually dying.
so we get to talking with them because my mom is the chatty type and never passes up the opportunity to catch up with someone and of course, they ask the question i always dread.
“what have you been up to?”
they’re expecting me to go on about college, possibly grad school-- they think i’m going to talk about my major, my interests, a job or even a significant other.
i’ve got nothing. i’ve done virtually nothing for the past five years, save for struggle through trauma and depression and fibromyalgia and now cancer, and i don’t know what to say, like always. i have few friends-- all of them online-- and the tiny pool of special interests i have are nothing i can talk about in proper company, because blogging and video games and witchcraft aren’t exactly things the average person is just going to listen to me yap about without offering up judgement or a side-eye.
so i say what i always do in these types of situations, inspired by a tumblr post that hasn’t let me down yet: “i’m recovering from an illness right now, actually.”
it’s true, but it’s not the whole truth, and i’m tired of having to say it. i’ve been recovering for half a decade. i’ll probably still be recovering for years yet, if not my whole life. i’m exhausted. i just want to be on the same level as my peers, with a job and a degree and a social life, but right now that’s not possible. and honestly? it might not ever be.
for months now i’ve been wanting to reconnect with old high school friends but it’s that shame that’s holding me back. they’re all so successful and would have so much to say if asked and i’m stuck in some strange stasis, like time has stopped in my direct vicinity but keeps marching on around me. and if i did tell them the whole truth-- because god knows i’m awful at keeping things to myself-- i know that all they would feel is pity, or sadness, or some combination of emotions i don’t want directed at myself. my options are live a lie, live in pity, or live in isolation-- and i’m not sure which of the three is the least painful.
this is what being disabled is like. this is what it’s like, and i guess i’m going to have to get used to it.
