Chronic illness is brutal on your sanity in so many ways. You have to endure it. It's hard. That's an understatement. It's not always consistent. So when you do have good days, everything is fine. You look great. You're doing wonderful. Glad to see you're better. People don't understand what the word chronic means. Let me clear that up. Persistent. Reoccurring. Long lasting. Difficult to eradicate. It's not a common cult. People look at me and say, you're fine. You're healthy girl. There's nothing wrong with you. It has to be visible after all. To be real. Just like that oxygen you're breathing, eh? There seems to be this misconception that I'm only in pain if I'm screaming. I'm only wounded if I'm bleeding. Something's only broken if it's a bone. If I'm smiling and if I'm cheerful around you, then there's nothing wrong with me. Our bodies are more than the outside skin. There's a lot that can and does go wrong beneath this flesh. When so many people don't believe you, when they dismiss your words and your pain, it's easy to start to wonder and question yourself. You think of all those things, lazy, crazy, insane, eagerness and smile and laugh and act like nothing's wrong, nobody suspects a thing. You're so cheerful, so nice. There's nothing wrong with you. Just pull yourself up. You're just lacking motivation. Smile, be fake. It's a veneer. It's not a sad day. It's a shift. One that you have no control over. I tried. I tried. I tried because believe me, I don't want this. I'm good at acting. I can put on that fake smile. I can laugh at their jokes, make them myself. I can act normal. I can act and talk with energy and passion. It's draining. People tell you, oh, just get out. Do something. Get sun. Go for a walk. They give examples of people who got out and felt better. You're naval gazing too much. Just go out and serve someone. Great. It doesn't always work. I do get out. Sometimes I get out every day. Some days I can't. Some days I cry. Some days I don't. Some days I'm just exhausted. Sometimes I'm not sad. It's a burden, an exhaustion that settles over my mind. Physically, I can't do anything. Mentally, it's difficult to think of anything creative or not. I'm so vulnerable that anything can set me off into a spiral of despair. Why does it medication work? I don't know. But why don't you get help? I have. But why don't you get help in the way that I think you should get help? It would work for you if you did. After all, one size fits all. It's not about being lazy. It's not about not wanting to do things. When you talk to people, you try to explain in the desperate attempt to be understood. You try to justify what you can't function like they can. Or why you can't do what they want you to do. They don't understand. Oh, I've never felt like that before. I don't relate. Are you making this up? Do you need attention? If I wanted attention, I'd hug my dogs. Stop comparing pain. Pain is pain. It's not the same for everyone. My pain is my pain. Your pain is your pain. It doesn't need to be justified. It exists. How are you doing? I'm fine. I'm fine. Lies. When the switch flips on and the light floods your mind, chasing the darkness away. It's easy to wonder if you had made it all up in the first place. You didn't. My experiences are different than others. I appreciate videos like this, especially when it comes to writing. So I had to put my own out there. I know there are good days in my future. There are good days in your future. Hang in there, cling to life, hang on with your teeth if you have to. The good days, they're worth fighting for that much I do know. Thanks for watching. Stay strong. Until the next video. Bye.