Hmmm, yea I feel this post @fractaled.
My boyfriend is probably the best person I know, and is always supportive of me during my ups and downs.
Currently, I’m kind of in a funk and am not my usual self. Some days are okay, most days are lost to excessive sleeping and the “coulda-shoulda-woulda.”
I try to hide or minimize most of it— perhaps in a feeble attempt at self-preservation by way of cognitive dissonance— but the truth is, the boat is sinking.
…It’s like when the Titanic hits the iceberg, and the orchestra keeps playing as the ship goes down.
The veneer is slipping, and it feels like only a matter of time before that dark underbelly is exposed— ultimately driving my boyfriend away.
To his credit, he is amazingly understanding and kind-hearted, and has been in my corner since Day One.
But there’s always that worry— that fear— that the insidious ways of this illness will somehow worm its way between us.
And so I hide. I deflect. I minimize.
…I buy time.
I buy time until the clouds have passed and that little ray of sunshine hits skin once again.
When I’m good, I’m really good. When I’m bad, it’s all sorts of fuucked.
With this illness, many of us become masters of camouflage.
We walk that thin line between honesty and disingenuousness often— hiding or masking our symptoms in plain sight just so we can have one more good day.
We all have our reasons— professional, social, or simply maintaining some small shard of normalcy.
Mine is love.
Be well and best wishes