The benefits of being unwell - It's Not A Fucking Unicorn Is It?

Recently, I found out that someone considerably lacking in brains, empathy and humanity and unfortunately in a position of relative power, had sat themselves down and concocted a little list detailing all of the reasons why a person might decide to ‘be’ as sick as fuck.


It wasn’t dissimilar to reading the entry requirements to a lunatic asylum in the 1800’s. It had the same kind of feel, you know, patriarchal bollocks given free reign.


What a delightful way to spend your time. What a charming soul they must be….


Listing their own self-limiting, fucked up reasoning for the world to see so the condemnation of the chronically ill can be a joyous group activity.


Lovely, we definitely need more people like this, because life really isn’t special enough.


I was asked this question repeatedly when I first fell ill…


Why do you want this? How is it serving you? What do you have to gain?


Because I was young, impressionable and because mindfulness and positivity were relatively new concepts in the mainstream, and seemed to spontaneously erupt from people’s mouths before their brains could engage, I was initially drawn in.


And then, once drawn in - I was shamed and bullied into believing I had chosen to be ill.


The guilt ate me alive. The sorrow that I had somehow, somewhere deep in my subconscious decided to be a fuck up, a nuisance, a burden, eroded my very essence.


I began to hate myself, to hate my subconscious - almost believing that it was working against me like a little monster sitting in the dark plotting my downfall.


Seventeen years later, I discovered that I had Lyme. A bacterial infection that had been quietly eating me alive.


Like so many, my misdiagnosis had cost me the chance of family, career or home. More importantly, it had cost me, me.


Here are the delightful souls reasons why being disabled might be appealing....


You know, just in case you want to check you haven’t got any going on, lurking.


In case you want to make sure you aren’t actually having the time of your life…without knowing it -


Disability may hold advantages for them –

Financial/Environmental

Benefits, equipment, accommodation.


I may be on my own in this, but I suspect I am not…..


I have lived in one shit situation after another since I became too unwell to work.


I have also lived in absolute poverty.


At thirty, I had one set of underwear, one plate, one set of cutlery, no kettle, a twenty year old duvet and no duvet covers. Second hand clothes from my sister who is 6ft and a size 14-16, while I’m 5ft 2 and a size 8. I washed my hair and everything else in fairy and couldn’t afford heat.


I had to buy a washing machine from Littlewoods and pay for it weekly, which meant I couldn’t have food, it broke three years before I finished paying it off and I had to wash my clothes by hand, which I couldn’t do because I was too ill.


I had one hob on a broken cooker and not enough food to use it.


I have lived in mold in every single property, which makes me considerably sicker, because guess what, poor people have no right to dry walls or a healthy environment.


My neighbours in one flat were gangsters, who openly sold guns and drugs and were seriously fuck off scary.


I couldn’t afford electricity and was bullied into taking loans out through other people to pay for psychiatric help for my non-existent condition. Where I was ruthlessly, dogmatically and repeatedly told I wanted this life and it was all my own fault.


So, to the lovely person who wrote this spectacular delight of absurd ignorance, fucking bite me.


Support care and attention

From family/friends/carers


Each and every person I know who is chronically unwell has lost most if not all of their friends, family and if they do have careers, they do not want fucking carers.


Who the fuck wants someone else bathing them ffs? No seriously who? This isn’t fifty shades of grey, it’s just humiliating, soul destroying and devastating.


Excuse for avoidance

Eg – unwanted sexual attentions


Still not fifty shades of grey - I think that most people would just say no to be honest, wouldn’t they? Unless in an incredibly abusive relationship, in which case my heart goes out to you.


I’m not sure that anyone would sit for approximately three thousand years filling the relevant forms in for disability, explain how they use the fucking toilet in the most unimaginable detail, go on on to have a horrifying assessment - where they will be told they’d be better off dead, are liars, cheats and all round bastards, by a condescending arsehole in a shiny suit with a clip board – all to gain roughly a tenth of what they could earn if well, and all to avoid sex.


I’d actually advocate pushing the proposer of the unwanted sex out the window before attempting the benefit route. You’d serve less time and be treated with more respect.


Social mystique or importance

Having a rare condition


ME/CFS/Lyme/FIBRO/MCAS/POTS/EDS/ENDO/CIRS and all the other chronic health challenges that people face, you know the ones, which debilitate so you don’t actually get to do life – ARE NOT FUCKING RARE!


They are not mysterious. And, no one cares.


No one’s interested.


Annnnnnnnd you don’t get to socialise in order to bowl people over with the mysteriousness of your condition…..


Because, wait for it….. you’re in fucking bed. On your own. With not a soul wanting to have sex with you, no one caring for you unless you’ve completely lucked out, not enough to eat and a general sense of abject misery because all of your dreams have been unceremoniously snatched away.


As my beautiful friend said – it’s not a fucking unicorn is it? No, it fucking well is not. It’s shit.


I like to try and combine a anger fueled rant with the suggestion of a few heart opening poses, a couple of lions breaths, and maybe a touch of psoas opening….


It’s all about the balance ….


If you’d like to join me for a class where I promise I won’t be even slightly grrr, sarcastic, aggressive or ‘’difficult’’ just get in touch beautiful souls.


I design the classes for anyone and everyone who has or is experiencing ill health and all the challenges that come with it.


Ranging from incredibly gentle bed based sequences, which incorporate the breath to heal - to seated and lying flows that encourage the energy to circulate.


When I began, I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t touch my knees. I couldn’t take a deep breath. It doesn’t matter where you are, what you can manage – yoga can meet you there.


Yoga therapy is my fuck you to those who have left Lyme and ME patients to suffer. To the lack of research, the lack of care, the insidious dismissal and cruelty.


It’s for all the people left behind, all the souls full of love and life who have been caged, crushed and repressed. It’s the possibility of releasing the trapped trauma, finding a way through the darkness and back into the light.


The light in my soul, honours and bows to the light in yours xx

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