So, for the majority of this year, I’ve had to take up a larger load than usual. My grandmother, my grandfather’s caregiver, has been out of the state attending to a different and dire family emergency. I’m glad she went, it’s important. But I’ve had to take up more of the responsibility than usual and than I can physically handle.

I’m already booked with work and my own hobbies. I don’t have a single day where I don’t have anything going on. On top of that, I’ve also had to take up more household chores— cleaning, groceries for the whole house and not just myself, laundry for more than just myself. It’s become too much for me to physically, mentally, or emotionally handle.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to do what I can to help my grandfather out. He needs much more assistance than I do. However, it’s costing me my own body. My own peace. My own health. I don’t know how much more of myself I can sacrifice. How much more can I inch towards the line?

And it doesn’t help that I’m facing medical and financial troubles. I have an urgent concern and the soonest they can get me in is the end of April. My body is failing me, which means I’m calling out more, which means less income. Due to reduced income, I haven’t been able to afford my meds all month- it was meds or gas and groceries. I can’t just cut here and there to save some when I’m on $200 minimum of meds a month.

I’ve been in a worse mental state in the past 2 weeks than I have in the past 2 years. And my grandmother isn’t likely to return anytime soon. Mid to Late February is the current plan, but who knows?

So for now I have to ration my energy. Ration my meals even further. Push myself even more to get through the days and the chores. I may even have to give up some of my hobbies just to allow my body time to reset. I can’t help but feel like I’ve become a shell of who I’ve worked so hard to become and I’m having a terrible time trying to keep positive and remain optimistic. I’ve had myself convinced for so long that if I didn’t think positively about my situation I would break.

But now in my efforts to think positively, I’ve continued to break. I continue to hurt. And hide. I’m clueless and lost and I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to motivate myself forward. I don’t know how to look at the great things I have and not question how long I’ll keep them or if I deserve them. I don’t know how to stop myself from sleeping at my best friend’s place so I’m not alone or how to stop the idea of admitting myself.

I’m so tired of taking medications all the time.

I’m so tired of everybody looking at me like I’m fragile even though I am.

I’m so tired of being sick and tired.

I know that accepting and embracing my chronic illnesses and disabilities has made me a stronger and more authentic version of myself but I want nothing more right now than to go back to the person I was before it got this bad.

And I also genuinely hate that I feel this way about myself.

I’m trying so hard to be nothing but a positive light and resource while advocating for the grief disabled people face while refusing to acknowledge my own.

And right now I just need to scream into the void that is my own tumblr page about how I’m exhausted about the fact that I’m visibly unwell.

That I’m INvisibly unwell.

That I am fighting for my life every second of every hour of every day.

For all the mental battles that would come with being disabled. Am I surprised? By no means. I’ve been struggling with my mental health as long as I can remember.

But this grief? This depression?

It’s entirely different.

I constantly feel like I’m on the verge of losing myself entirely. I still find myself questioning if any of this is worth it. If I as a person am worth it. Sometimes I wonder if I did something to “deserve” this.

So now I’m just lying face down on the bathroom floor fighting my physical health and my mental health and wondering why I even try.

This grief is entirely separate from anything I’ve felt before. And sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever make it back up.

The grief is nothing new. I experience it regularly. I’m almost always dealing with some sort of grief. I’ve lost so much of my life to my chronic illnesses and disabilities.

I feel so useless because I can’t help out around the house as much as I’d like.

I feel like every dream I’ve ever had is disappearing by the minute.

The choir I found to rebuild my confidence and connect with my lifelong passion feels like it’s being ripped out of my hands.

And even though it’s no one’s fault, I can’t help but blame myself.

How long until I lose everything else?

Will I lose my job? My passion and pride?

Will I lose my friends? My family? My lover?

How often am I going to have to find and re-find something that makes this hellish life worth living? All the while discovering new symptoms, new complications, new concerns.

I never asked for this. I just want it to be over.

Yet I know I can’t keep falling into this darkness. I can’t let the feeling of being undeserving of the gift of life keep getting me down.

I have to make the most of it.

I don’t know which jerks I’d be letting win if I give up and give in, but I simply cannot let that happen.

I’ll keep finding reasons to fight. I’ll keep beating back every worry.