In some ways, that’s a good thing. I’m eccentric, loud, crude, funny. I write erotica. I am a total geek. Except for the loud part, I enjoy those things.
But in some ways, different isn’t good. Maybe I’m focusing on those things too much tonight, as I weep in my hospital bed. Of course, being in the hospital bed yet again, is a difference hitting me hard this time around.
My body has been against me for a very long time, starting with a pesky condition called Hidradenitis suppurativa. That shit is a beast. Since puberty, my body has broken out into giant lumps in some very personal areas. The pressure-pain can be so horrible, I can barely sit or walk from it. They ooze, staining my clothes, or at least wetting them enough to be noticeable. How embarrassing is that?
There is no cure for it. There are things you can do to kind of treat it, but really it’s not terribly effective. Some doctors think it comes from defective aprocrine sweat glands, but no one really knows for sure.
All I know is that I hate it. It sucks. It makes me feel very unsexy. I feel like I can’t do awesome things like having spontaneous sex in a bathroom stall (granted, neither my husband or I would really be down for that, but I’d like it to be an option).
I’ve had surgery to remove a couple of spots. One spot is actually doing very well, but the other still breaks out from time to time. It’s less than it was, but it still is.
Because of this, I never feel beautiful. Not really. Maybe my face looks okay sometimes, but I know the lumps are there. It’s impossible to stop thinking about some days.
Now my body is betraying me in a different way with the chronic staph infections. I thought the HS was painful. Yeah, it has nothing on staph. And now that it has spread to infecting the bone, life is sucking extra hard. And it keeps happening over and over again.
I feel like my life is coming to a stop. All the things I want for myself, like kids, is just impossible. How will I be able to raise a family if I can’t even raise my arms sometimes because of cysts under my arms?
Not feeling like the rest of the world is very painful. Probably more so than the problems with my skin. You see all these smiling faces and you fake your own because you don’t want anyone to know. Or worse, they don’t understand what’s going on, or they blame you for what’s going on like it’s something that can be prevented. My life constantly feels like it’s on hold. My dreams are forever fading away.
Maybe I’m just belly-aching, I don’t know. I just needed to vent since it’s better than crying again. Hopefully, your life is going better than mine.