Sometimes when you’re keeping your own secret from the world outside it’s so easy to break down at any moment, because you have this burden on your shoulder and you too scared to trust and rely on anyone but yourself. You’re afraid of disappointment and you chose isolation instead. I hate secrets, its literally weighing me down while slowly driving me insane.
Few years ago I had this illness on my stomach which felt a bit like the usual acid reflux but its not. I told my closest people about it and they responded with disinterest. Take this and that n you’ll be fine. The way they reacted made me felt like I’m being too whiny, overreacting n all, so I ignore my symptoms. I’m getting used to ignorance it leads to denial, and the next thing i know I’ve became this con artist fooling everybody so they thought I was ok, which I’m not. I’m getting SO GOOD at it you wouldn’t believe how messy my life gets from there.
It went for a couple of years (2002-2004) and the stupid ‘acid reflux’ turns into major hemorrhage caused by fibrosis inside my body and I’m literally bleeding to death. Nice. I was practically a vampire needing blood to survive; I got them transferred to my body for 2 and 3 weeks, 6 to 8 bags each, and I took a semester off from school. The blood didn’t helped much though, cause my intestine’s still leaking and no one knows but me.
Funny thing, this denial, the worse it gets the more it kept me from telling the truth. I kept it to myself. I’m scared to tell them, coz then it would make it official, that I’m sick and I need help. Sometimes when it hurts real badly I KNOW I should go get help and yet I didn’t, I wrote in my journal instead. If the journal can speak for itself, it would scream and cry hysterically. Now THAT is sick and twisted, n I’m kicking myself right now. I needed a doctor AND a shrink.
Speaking of shrink, my doctor sent me to one back then, when he almost gave up on me and thought the illness was actually came from my brain (read: stress). I got so busy at being mad thinking that no one trusted me or taking me seriously I forgot it was me who’s been keeping secrets all along. The doctor couldn’t work up some miracles, it was all up to me to tell them what actually going on with my body, and so they wouldn’t be so busy guessing while testing me with so many different kind of medicine that my body couldn’t take. I wasted so much time and money over my own stupidity. I even let myself be tested with lumbar puncture which cost a fortune and risking my spine over something I hide. And the lumbar puncture only leads to another game of guessing, was it thallacaemia (spelling?) or leukemia that caused me to lose so much blood. I know it’s neither, but I was rather got sliced n diced rather than telling them the real symptoms. I wanted them to find out by themselves so I wouldn’t have to explain every single detail of my twisted journey.
I guess I was ashamed of my own body, how frighteningly fragile mine was compared to everyone else’s. I was so lacking in self confidence and I have no one to share (my only confidante was my previous boyfriend and at that time he was away for a year), I got caught up in my own twisted game.
If it not for my body broken down, I don’t know what would happen to me instead. (Well I sort of knew, and I’m glad that didn’t happen). See, my body refuse to take this stupidity any longer and it got me rushed back to the ER (this time they thought it was appendicitis) and they insisted to operate me ASAP. Everyone was ready for a simple appendix surgery but ended up doing gastric bypass instead. They accidentally found this rather large tumor and got rid of it instantly. I spent 3 days at the ICU (it should’ve been 5 but I can be such a pain in the ass and I managed to get my doctor to release me faster) and another 2 weeks at the hospital for recovery. I freaked everyone out, especially my parents (I never saw dad cried that much) and I hate myself for being a stupid, coward and egotistical person.
And just when you thought I’ve learned my lesson…
