shiraphant: (Default)
I do intend to make a happy post soon (about My First Holiday omg omg), but for now, some Thoughts I Thought.

Here's part of a conversation I'm having with [livejournal.com profile] puzzled_anwen:

me: I did washing up this morning. I did ten minutes of washing up and in that time I developed a lot of pain in my mid-back, my shoulders hated me, I felt sick, my womb began to cramp and I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach repeatedly
all those pains gradually went away when I sat down
soooooooooo
after about twelve years, I finally started to believe - really believe - that I am not lazy, I could not do more around the house "if I just wanted to do it enough", I genuinely do have something wrong with me
I am not faking just in order to get out of doing housework.
anwen: arr, I know what you mean
it'd be nice if you were *sigh*
me: I can't believe it's taken me this long to believe it and I am sure I will be doubting myself again soon
anwen: yup
I do all the time
anwen: esp when I was mostly quite well last year I was all 'oh god, maybe I wasn't really that bad' even though, you know, I WAS BEING POISONED BY MY TABLETS

Having fibro/other invisible or otherwise unverifiable illnesses (including mental illness, with which I also have daily fun in several forms) means, for many of us, daily self-doubt and guilt on top of the judging and unhelpful assumptions made about us by other people - friends, family, doctors, random strangers. (We won't even get into the frustration and depression which come from being unable to have normal bloody lives with jobs and socialising and hobbies). Our brains, like so many clueless people, tell us we're not really that ill. We're faking to get attention/avoid having to do any work. We've "embraced the sick role", whatever the shit that means. We hear it so much from others that we believe it ourselves, and we hurt ourselves, we make ourselves more ill, trying to behave as if all that were true, as if our illnesses were the convenient fictions that so many people seem to think they are, and as if we could just choose to behave like healthy, able-bodied people and we'd magically be better. Unfortunately it does not work. No amount of wanting it to be that way will make it that way, and I did not - we did not - choose to have our bodies fail in this way.

If you're one of the people who didn't need to be told this - thank you for not making our lives harder and more painful. Thank you for believing us, because it's fucking rare when anyone does.
shiraphant: (Default)
WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO KILL BEES

ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE THE SORT OF PERSON WHO SUBSCRIBES TO A "NATURAL LIVING" COMMUNITY

BEES. ARE NOT FOR KILLING. MY FUCK. AT LEAST GET SOMEONE TO FIGURE OUT WHAT SORT OF BEES THEY ARE BEFORE YOU TRY AND FUCKING KILL THEM.

skjrghesgkueah;UJHREGJ;SERJGEGjKJRK


In other news, the Oxegen festival was a pile of fail. I left a comment in [livejournal.com profile] gothhippiegrrl's LJ about it, and I may as well reproduce it here; be warned, it's long )

In other other news, I am unreasonably excited about going to see the new Harry Potter film, despite knowing that I will want to throw things at the screen at certain points. I can't go until Friday night at the earliest because every ticket within a 30 mile radius is booked, but EEEEEEE.

I have an appointment with a neurologist tomorrow, which will hopefully a) be the start of getting some control over my migraines, which really are the worst part of being me because they ruin almost everything and prevent me from doing nearly anything b) go better than the fucking awful endocrinologist appointment I had last week which was so unspeakably awful that I'm going to write a letter of complaint. The woman was dismissive, ignorant, arrogant, fatphobic, hostile, didn't bloody listen, and TOUCHED MY HEAD (scrabbling about in my hair) without asking first and then tried to make out that I was in the wrong when I freaked out. I'd go into details but it needs its own post, really, and I might make that post when I've written the complaint letter. James said he was tempted to ask her "Are you a real doctor?" I wish he had. He's been referred to the Marfan clinic in Dublin which means HOORAY he will get proper treatment and we will have a better idea of when he needs heart surgery (he has a dilated aortic root and a leaky mitral valve).

I miss being able to talk to people on IM. Our dodgy mobile modem interwebs is terrible and the connection drops at least once every five minutes, sometimes more like twice a minute, so the only chat I can use is Facebook Chat, and even that keeps cutting out.

I must apologise again (and explain to the newer people on my flist) for not being great at answering comments. Migraine is worse than ever, and connection is dodgy, and fibro thoroughly kicks my arse on a regular basis, and I am basically just rubbish at replying. However, I do make a very tasty clafouti, which I would never have thought to try had it not been mentioned several times by [livejournal.com profile] ailbhe, so thank you [livejournal.com profile] ailbhe*!.


*for some reason I really like typing the name "ailbhe"

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shiraphant

December 2010

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