Bad eggs

I had a really weird dream. It was not a nightmare as such, but it left a bitter taste and a sense of uneasiness throughout the entire day. My brother was in the dream and I woke with a lucid echo of his terrifying accusation about how I ruined his life.

It happened when we were out for dinner; my parents, my then boyfriend and I; for the very first time. There was no friction yet, my mother had me fooled she accepted the boyfriend and my father had put on his costume of important executive. While waiting for our orders to be served, my brother called me on my mobile phone, and he started screaming straight away, how I destroyed his entire future and how he would never be able to get a normal romantic relationship because of me. He referred to the best girl he ever had; and how she met me and we became close friends, and she broke up with him shortly after. The same happened with the second best girlfriend he ever had - one afternoon out with me, of shoe shopping, seemed to have ruined her affections for him. Because I introduced her to her own freedom of choice (instead of his bullying and manipulative behaviour).

From early on, my brother's behaviour resembled that of my narcissistic manipulative mother. Growing older, he got meaner and sneakier, and consciously trying to disrupt our family as well as me personally. He would make sure I took the full blow of my mother's rage; even when he was to blame. He lied and spied for her pretending to be on my side, while passing on any information of my thoughts and visions and whereabouts to her - so I could receive any punishment. It took me a terribly long time to realise that to some extent he was treating me worse than my mother did. When my father was admitted to hospital because of his leg going septic after a minor injury, my brother nearly forbade me to pay him a visit. He called me on my parents' landline; making sure I knew they were in on it, while at the same time my mother pretended she never knew anything of my brother's intention to keep me out. I did go, however, and I got soothed by my mother who swore my brother had no right to push me off like that/ Only later I learned she damned well knew and had agreed on it - but there, at the hospital, she smelled an opportunity to alienate him and me even more.
This became very obvious on my son's first birthday, on which he retreated to a corner with my mother; whispering to her the whole time, while my father stood watch; and my brother's unknown girlfriend and her two daughters sat silently on the sofa, only to leave after the etiquettishly one hour attendance.

Things never were normal in my family, but from that day on I realised there could only be one solution. I went no contact with my brother shortly after. I did the same with my parents five years later.

But my brother's accusations linger.
Especially because I recognise his anger in the careful ways my friends keep their other friends away from me. I never understood why, for instance, one girlfriend in the past would meet me one day at some place and meet another girlfriend at that same place two days later. Why not mix up, go together, wouldn't that be fun, since she talks of that other friend so often I already seem to know her my entire life?
"No, because she is so much different from you that it would not work."
Excuse me?
"I will not risk losing either friendship just because she might think you're a bad egg for coming between us."

Well, the same excuse was given to me by several other friends. Apart from birthday parties, I was not to know these other people about whom they gossipped or complained; or who they revered or felt sad for. And then I found out these others never knew a thing, or very little and most of it negative, about me.
Suddenly it wasn't about being different anymore:
It was not only about being a bad egg and friendship-wrecking.
Suddenly I was some sort of best kept secret.

Why?
Because like my brother so firmly believes, I would steal their friends? Because of the possibility these friends might like me? Because I am just me? Or because I indeed am a bad egg, incapable of keeping close friendships because I like to destroy?

I am still very confused about it. I keep pondering the possible answers - they are hurtling through my mind like leaves in a gale. I am fully aware of the fact that I may indeed have done bad things, I am human after all, a human who survived a lot of crap and still is paying a price for that.
After all, we are all bad in someone's story.
But we cannot all be bad in everyone's story. So I refuse to be the bad egg here because someone else is unwilling to face their own insecurities.

I could be writing off my frustrations regarding the total governmental neglect of chronically ill people, but ...

... I refuse. Wholeheartedly. I already addressed my concerns on various occasions, i.e. comments on newspaper articles and additions to questionnaires on global health and well-being in corona times, as well as social media (Instagram, Twitter). The only similar experience came today in the form of a single dad, caring for his 3 children in a co-parenting situation while also managing two jobs. To me, there is no reason to believe our government even realises there is such a group of people who fight every day against their own bodies as their illnesses chronically and invisibly eat away more and more of their health and well-being, meanwhile feeding their depression, anxieties and general feeling of worthlessness.

But I promised not to berate these experiences of mine. Today I want to be light and funny. I barely slept last night, thanks to the migraine that decided to announce itself ten minutes before I went to bed at 9.50pm. I hoped I'd be able to just sleep it off, but Fibromyalgia chose to join forces resulting in me being wide awake, in dreadful pain, at 1.30am. Took my migraine meds at 2, got nauseous about 15 minutes later, and decided then to just call it a day ... night, and opened Merge Zoo to do some mindful candy feeding of my cute little animals. When staring at the same videos ("watch videos to get your reward") for too long and feeling all the more nauseous, I closed the app, put on Sophie Hutchings on Spotify and grabbed my current Terry Pratchett. I read till 4am. Ish. The final time I looked at the clock, was 4.45am.

Painsomnia is a terrible thing. It deprives the body of the so necessary sleep and causes even more pain, making the next day a trial of pure adrenaline, only to backfire as the day progresses. And regardless of knowing this, it will still hit me like a sledgehammer. It could not have come at a worse time either, for in three days my son will return and I'll need a lot more spoons than the shortage I start my days off with lately.

In a couple of minutes, my friend will join me for a walk in the nearby fields and meadows, to get some fresh air and also just to be with each other, respecting social distancing ruling, naturally. Although we both suffer from Fibromyalgia, she has it in a much milder degree than I do - for instance, she can still work and do a bunch of activities I had to let go of. Today, she texted me her pelvis and lower back are hurting - yesterday she had this wild plan to go somewhere on our bikes and hike there, but there you go: with a chronic debilitating illness like Fibromyalgia, we have to take it day by day, and need to be extra careful in planning activities and outings beforehand. Most people do not get that - it is why friendships with healthy people can get quite tricky, as the lack of empathy and acceptance starts weighing on the spoonie, just when they need unconditional support the most

But, light and funny it is to be, right?
Let me get back to you after my walk in the fields 😁

Quarantine is actually my normal ... uhm ... (a little rant from a spoonie)

Since March 16, Corona has put us all in some form of quarantine. Funnily - or rather, sadly - for me this requires very little adaptation as both Fibromyalgia and the treatment for Colitis Ulcerosa with immunosuppressants have been forcing me to stay at home for over 14 years now, . The majority of that period I was in a toxic marriage and trying to stay on top of toxic relatives and in-laws while monitoring household, freelance work and parenting. There was no support from government, and my social circle grew smaller due to lack of energy and understanding.

I try to be sympathetic to those healthy people now confined to their own four walls, with their loved ones, being in each other's constant proximity while trying hard to keep a sane mind as well as feeling useful to both family and society. I try not to shout WELCOME TO MY WORLD, as that would be very nonempathic and also rude. But I do think it. I do think that they are lucky to be understood by their loved ones, their friends, the government. Because now "we are all in it together". Suddenly there is a major feeling of standing strong and raising awareness for mental health during these times of social deprivation. I both hail and get frustrated with companies, government facilities and employers in general who all of a sudden get very creative in creating possibilities to work from home. I was fired from my job as a therapist due to my illness, and there was no guidance, no re-mediating to a more flexible job that befitted me.

True, current technologies make a lot of these teleworking possibilities a reality. Back in 2005, 2006 this was still in its developmental shoes. But even in the years following my confinement at home, I have never been contacted to check how my mental welfare was, or how I dealt with suddenly being stuck at home, labelled "completely useless for the job market". I was forced to reinvent myself, mostly on my own, here and there aided and supported by the friends who still stuck with me.

Mind you, I am not angry with people who complain about their current situation. I just get upset because I feel the chronically ill, who lost their jobs due to their unwanted illness and have been discarded in very rude ways, who fight against anxiety and depression every day because they are isolated as a result of not being able to keep up with the healthy folks, who put a lot of energy in healing to manageable degree of pain and/or discomfort, who also try their hardest to be there for their loved ones, we spoonies, we seem to be forgotten.

Earlier, I read an article in the news about a former astronaut who was interviewed regarding this quarantine situation. "It is very similar to being in space", the man stated. And I was like, what the f***? Why not ask a spoonie about their social isolation? Or their frustration when they finally got enough spoons to go grocery shopping and stand in line to go in the supermarket, aching all over, only to find every toilet-paper shelf empty?

These times should bring out sympathy, solidarity, empathy. Reality often shows a tragically opposite truth.

Despite my rant, I am deeply grateful for all measures being taken to keep everyone healthy, to protect everyone from getting sick. I am grateful to health staff, mailmen, garbage collectors, veterinarians ... for still being there for us. Thank you. My cat Patches was saved from a severe allergic reaction to a (bumble)bee sting in her face, and without our vets, I dare not think what would have happened. Thanks to my mailman, I got lovely cards for my birthday and online orders are still being delivered.

I just wish us spoonies were considered more important than as a mere footnote in the comment "most people likely affected by covid-19 are the elderly and the chronically ill, due to their insufficient immune systems". I am on both Ledertrexate (Methotrexate) and Remicade, both of which affect the immune system in not too good a way. And I worry - even though my doctors convince me I should not.

What I want to say -- be kind, be as understanding as you can manage, follow the rules, protect others by protecting yourself. And when this is all over and all you healthy folk are allowed to return to your jobs and to roam the streets, parks and restaurants again, remember that for us spoonies this current way of living merely continues indefinitely.