GERD; round two, and nothing's changed

Several years ago for a period of about one and a half years, I became extremely ill. At the time, I'd been taking something for pain that gave me terrible acid reflux, but since it helped, I just ignored it. After about a week, I noticed my chest felt tight one night while watching an old silent film. I'd curled up with a box of Cheez-Its and thought nothing more of it. When I went to bed and sat up to browse Instagram for a bit, I blacked out, fainted, and came back convulsing.

My health declined in the weeks following until I was stuck in bed with terrible acid reflux every single day, never letting up. My throat scarred and my voice went hoarse. No one at the time believed me when I said I was sick, and many blamed my anxiety. Others ignored my needs and I had to get up and do things to please other people or make them comfortable. My dietary needs were a burden when out to eat with friends, so I'd eat things that screwed up my stomach later because it was the only thing they wanted to get. It was a very isolating and difficult time. I'd also become anorexic.

That same illness is happening again. Although I'm on the medication that helped it calm down before, nothing can hold a candle to the power of long-term stress. Between food insecurity, financial stress, repeated stress triggers such as my computer breaking and several mini trauma triggers, as well as a major trauma trigger that re-traumatized me all over again thanks to some maintenance people, it's all come back.

I lost a couple pounds in just a couple days. My throat hurts and my voice is becoming hoarse, and sometimes eating makes me feel so sick even the smell of food makes me hyper-salivate from nausea. I have several mini panic attacks a day, and I'm tense all the time. Just leaving my home nearly triggers a fainting spell because of anxiety, and my digestive system is so messed up that when digestion happens, it moves too quickly and I become severely fatigued and faint and have to lie down.

And I still have stressors in my life. I've been trying to get my psychiatrist to approve a medication refill for over a week, and I'm nearly out. I've never had to skip this particular medication in many years, and I fear the withdraw from it. Hopefully it doesn't come to that, but aside from it, politics and the future of democracy in the US has my stomach in knots as a transgender person.

I'm still trying to accomplish some kind of normal despite my diet consisting of bread, plain oatmeal, bananas, and LaCroix. I'm working on the agoraphobia that's gotten so bad I can't even leave my front yard anymore, and I'm still moving forward with publishing my next book in September. 'There's always a way to make things work' has become my mantra, and I've tried to replace fear with anger — an anger toward my illnesses that won't let up. I become angry at myself, and I tell myself that I will do what I need to do because in reality, I am capable of it if I just try a little harder.

But those are the words of my parents. From a past of not being believed when I was ill, or being told that I was too young or lazy to be exhausted. Despite the BPD, PTSD, depressions, psychotic symptoms, panic attacks, OCD, and chronic stomach illness, I can't possibly be as sick as I feel so I just need to take an Ativan and stop being anxious and it'll solve all my problems.

Except that's not fucking true. I am sick. Demonstrably sick. I am disabled for a reason.

Before it all got worse, I'd started walking regularly again as much as pain would allow, I changed my diet to something milder and healthier, I cut out caffeine, and I reduced my sugar intake. I contacted my mom to make peace and to try to have a relationship again, despite her behavior never changing. I wanted to heal, and I was adamant in doing so. I tried to look forward with more hope for the future, and I took actions to make that happen. I've tried harder than I ever have in my life over the past several months to get better and do better.

And I still ended up where I am now. This time, I tried to change things. This time, I tried to avoid it. I tried everything they tell you to do. I advocated for myself, I was completely honest with my doctors and am proactive in finding treatment and I go to therapy. I've called around for help and peer support, and I've tried to get to social groups to improve my social life and get out of isolation. I was told 'no' or 'you don't qualify' at every turn. I ran out of options, help, and money. I tried digging at the bottom of the barrel. I fucking tried. I did it. I exhausted every last resource — every last fucking dime.

And it got me nothing. I'm exhausted, extremely sick, and back where I was all those years ago when I was anorexic and in bed because of stomach pain, relentless acid reflux, and daily nausea that often prevents me from eating. And there is no help for me. When I confided in my mom, she said, 'You're just anxious, take an Ativan.'

I don't understand why some don't believe me when I tell them something. It's been a problem my whole life of several people just ignoring my needs or acting like they're inconvenient, or they tell me my problems are all in my head. And you know what? I'd rather be isolated than deal with this bullshit.

I just stop talking now when someone challenges me on my health. I don't respond when someone has miracle advice that I must not have done right if I say I've done it before and it didn't help. I shut down if I'm told I'm just not trying hard enough or trying the right thing, when I've said I've exhausted everything.

I won't argue with people anymore. You can listen and believe what I say about my own body and my needs, or you can fade into the background as I just stop responding and listening to you. I'm tired of fighting with people for basic respect. I'm tired of fighting to have my needs matter.

It's honestly made me feel like I don't matter. I'm not worth being taken seriously, and I don't have the worth necessary to be cared about or for. It's just draining on top of what I'm already dealing with, so I'm just... done. I don't know when I'll get better, but I'll keep trying. And I'll keep ignoring people who claim to have a miracle cure to my problems to the tune of 'just exercise and smile more' when people talk about their depression.

©2024 Shane Blackheart