In reality, I know that there is more to me than my diagnosis. I love to read and dance. I want to help people who have been what I have been through.
Yet there are the everyday struggles that only my illness brings. The symptoms that I would not have if I did not have this illness.
The insomnia and nightmares. Hypervigilance and the fear and anxiety of being around large crowds. The flashbacks and body memories from the traumas of the past. All of the medications that I need to take everyday just to function. The constant fear of my ex taking me back to court because my symptoms have flared up to the point that I need to go inpatient.
Because I have a mental illness, there are jobs that I cannot qualify for. When I go to a hospital, I am looked at differently. I cannot hide my med list.
Then ther is the fibromyalgia. The fact that others view me as weak and not able to fully be physically there, even though that is what I have been every time they have seen me. There are the meds to control that and the limitations that they bring.
No, I am not my illness, yet my illness impacts my life everyday and limits what I can do even though I try to find a way around the limitations.