I could be. You are absolutely right. I could be.
I could actually get up on time. I could eat breakfast. I could clean the house. I could put on make-up. I could fix my hair. I could go for a run. I could enjoy life. I could be real.
What would that do for you exactly? Would you feel better? Would you finally have this parenting thing down? Would I finally be accepted as me and not some stranger who disappeared 21 years ago? Would it even matter?
I cannot make it disappear.
I’m sitting with an upset stomach because of a project I have to present. Yes, everyone gets nervous; however, this is more than just being nervous. It’s a complex issue that I’m still working through. I don’t have my life all in one piece. I’m tired of pretending around you.
I could have good days. Bad days come, too. When I can’t get up, please leave me alone. Let me push through it. I’ll find my way. I promise. The medication is only there as an aid. I’m a sinking ship without an anchor to stay in place. I’m being tossed in every direction. My life is chaos.
I’m not handicap. I can still function even if it takes more time for me to get things done. I might lose my concentration. Bare with me. Don’t just give up on me by making small remarks.
I could be better, and I’m sorry this is what I am.
I am more human than I ever thought possible.
I am a warrior who refuses to give up just because you tell me that I could be better.
You aren’t in my shoes. You will never understand the weight of a panic attack. The pounding in the chest, silent screams for help, the hours in the bathroom throwing up the guts you thought you had – you have never faced this.
Don’t tell me I could be better. Just support me.