Updated: Dec 11, 2021
Boundaries, how to set them when you’ve spent your adult life being told and told again that you have and are failure incarnate because you have one of those illnesses – the chronic kind, the fuck your life up entirely kind, the utterly bollocks kind.
Kind of leaves you in a place of not deserving.
The endless why did you get sick and we don’t believe you are actually sick from doctors, which filters down to family, to friends, everyone you meet.
Are you sure you’re sick?
Pretty fucking sure.
All the positive tests aside, I feel like I have flu on the best days, on the worst I don’t know how I’m alive.
Apparently, though it’s all fine - I was mansplained yesterday - turns out that Lyme is not a problem.
Easily treated, treated for free on the NHS - at any stage – so no worries, don’t worry about it.
Makes me wish I hadn’t spent thousands buying antibiotics with loans to get myself out of bed. Certainly makes the bee venom seems more like adventurous self-harming escapade than infection control, and the amount of supplements I consume so I don’t die (no white blood cells) a tad extreme.
Wish I’d known it wasn’t a problem, the life I could have lived…
On covid bout number four, only just getting over covid the bastard three, only just starting to feel human again and without seeing a soul, brand new infection (I blame the door handles and shared laundry room).
Same delightful patterning - weakness, fatigue, brain fog, nausea, no sense of smell. Heart rate 300, blood pressure has tanked, blood oxygen likewise, visions gone, can’t stop shaking and I’m scared. Again.
This is where the mansplaining becomes wellsplaining…the bastards join forces…it is gender fucking neutral…
Are you sure that it’s not the stress of being stressed that’s making you so stressed you think you’re sick?
Yeah. Pretty fucking sure.
Sure you’re sure?
Usually at this point I wonder if wishing I had a sword is wrong. Is it though, is it really?
I didn’t used to get scared, used to have an immune system, before Lyme.
Used to be fit, strong, before Lyme.
I didn’t give a thought to infections, to not being able to make money, to being terrified I’ll get too weak to look after myself, didn’t occur.
Three days ago I was (pride/fall) thinking I’d nailed covid with the insane amount of biohacking I’d done, using my body as a science experiment (pretty much all it’s good for), and was not walking around in fear, in stress…got sick again anyway.
As the infection is enough to be getting on with - I’ve decided I’ve had enough of the explaining.
Of the apologising, the pretending that I don’t know what I’m talking about, the being polite.
Swallowing responses, being accommodating, doormatting (unsure how many t’s are required, three seems too much, but tempting).
It’s wearing me out.
Which made me wonder if the wellsplaining is because I always opt for polite silence.
Weak, pathetic? – silence
Fearful? – silence
Not sick, not really fucked, just dramatic as fuck? - silence
That is no boundaries (or so the people with boundaries tell me), the very definition of no boundaries and it would seem I need to boundary the fuck up before I start biting people.
So I bought cat ears…
Read a meme that said if people find your boundary setting villainous, buy a cape, become the villain, have fun with it.
Counting supplements is not that joyous, so nothing to lose.
I added cat ears, which became wolf ears when I discovered you can buy wolf ears and so every time I need to reply to something derogatory, put downy - wolf ears and a cape.
I studied costume design, it was never just going to be a cape, and I live alone so no one is going to section me.
A beautiful friend suggested that every time I say something, stand in my power and boundary set, I should reward myself with another villainous accessory and slowly upgrade to feral…
I am upgrading to feral.