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I Do Not Want To Feel Bad Anymore

August 13, 2018

I have had enough of my self-esteem problems as I’ve found a way to get therapy but I can’t say much about the actual scene yet. I have 22q and I feel lifelong guilt for having a slight difference in appearance that most people do not notice. Or so I understand now, in the present, but my, when I would get paranoid about the way I look. Now, I fully see that I have body dysmorphic disorder, among other things, such as schizophrenia, bipolar 1, OCD, type-1 diabetes and hypothyroidism. All except diabetes are from 22q, a minor genetic deletion that in no way affected my intelligence any, despite that being said as though it would have by certain people (my family), I’m not going to discuss out in the open.

I’m done being paranoid about people perceiving me as a pity party. I try to always be upbeat, frank, and happy. I try to let on that nothing is going on with me. I try to make sure to be positive all the time. I take my medication every day like clockwork to stay stable. My diabetes management is going somewhat well, but the thing is, I’m winning the sleep war. As a child, I didn’t get much sleep because I wasn’t treated with medication.

I will save why that is for another post. The concept of doing nothing but resting eludes me. The sheer thought of doing nothing scares me. I’m not exactly the sort of person content with not doing anything at all. I’m determined to feel good daily, so taking my medication is a part of that. I have dumped people who do not take their medication consistently, at the dose prescribed. I’m fed up with my family not taking medication on top of that. I was a full-blown alcoholic by from 18, or 2001-2010 when I quit drinking on my own. I have since attended many pagan 12-step groups.

I hate being dependent on anybody. So fracturing my tibia in 2016 and dislocating my kneecap all the way was incredibly frustrating. I had to depend on my mother for three weeks, which is a travesty by itself in ways I will explain later on. I hate letting anybody take care of me, be it family or anybody else. I can’t stand it. I take care of myself in the privacy of my own home most of the time anyway. I have yet to meet another person with my disorder besides one I found on WordPress.

I get paranoid all the time of people seeing me, and finding out that I’m different. I have webbing in my hands, which is not obvious but some people somehow find it okay to point out the obvious. Somebody else gave me a palm reading, I gathered he noticed, and he quit reading immediately. Good for him. That was appropriate. You see, we pagans believe in developing our psychic talent as part of basic witchcraft studies. I have some unusual talents my community acknowledges but I’m not exactly able to talk to outsiders about save for on my own blog, iriavp.com. I have a B.A. in creative writing from San Francisco State University. Sometimes my paranoia gets to me. What if I’m not cut out to be an entrepreneur, author, and more than that, which I keep to myself?

I also have two A.A. degrees, one in anthropology and one in creative writing. The anthropology A.A. is with honors. The advance degrees I DO NOT HAVE YET but actually want, are a law degree so I can become a congressperson, an M.A. in archeology, an MBA, an M.S. in psychology, and an M.D./Ph.D. I’m short on money to re-enroll in junior college so I can get online classes out of the way. The art bug has bitten me as a way to make money, and the thing is, it can raise awareness about my genetic disability. I’m tired of feeling bad about this disability though. I’m tired of letting other people push me around. I’m exhausted with imagining I’m not smart enough to do what it is I want to do with my life.

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