![[Image: 6-piece blue colored background with a Siamese cat. Top text reads: ’I miss you ):’. Bottom text reads “I miss me too”.]
I know that my illness affects other people too, but… come on. What do they expect in reply to this? “I’m sorry”? Folks, I have noticed that I pretty much no longer go outside, no matter how much they worry that I might have missed that fact. Thanks for reinforcing the unfairness of it all!](http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m29xmit5Vh1qi36g3o1_400.jpg)
Those 3 dreaded words:
“I miss you.”
They make me feel resentment and sadness.
Because as much as you may miss me,
I miss myself even more.
Most people would feel some kind of relief at being missed by their loved ones and friends. It signifies we are important to that person. That our absence is felt from their life. Because of the positive impact we left on them.
But what happens when you suddenly become chronically ill, and who you are, becomes who you were?
It’s even more difficult when the chronic illness is also one which is invisible. Outward appearances are deceiving,
yet it is so difficult for so many who know me to grasp.
My outsides don’t match my insides.
I may look the same
but inside,
I’m a mess.
During this past year and a half I’ve been through a lot.
Much like a soldier who has gone to combat
and returns a shell of him/herself,
I too feel the change in me.
I am no longer who I was.
I miss who I used to be.
It’s horrible, because I know I can never go back.
I have a hard time looking at pictures of myself,
because I see a stranger.
It’s almost as if I disassociate because,
I know it’s me,
and at the same time,
she couldn’t be more of a stranger.
I grieve for her.
The Kat pre-surgery.
Whose life was about to change drastically.
Who was about to undergo
the most traumatic experience of her life.
A part of her died.
She was altered
fragmented
into
the before
and the after
So when you say you miss “me”
I feel sad and also afraid
because I don’t want to disappoint you.
You may think I’m strong
brave
courageous
cheerful
but inside I’m doing everything I can
to hold myself together
because I’m falling apart.
It’s hard to pretend I’m ok
when I’m not.
So I end up avoiding friends and family.
Because it’s too much work
to be pretend to be the Kat they know.
The one they are comfortable with.
The Kat who no longer exists.
I don’t want to worry anyone
or let anyone down.
I don’t want anyone’s pity.
So I retreat into myself
and shut myself away.
Because it’s so much easier
than putting on a fake smile,
and say I’m ok.
You think you know
what it’s like
to miss me,
as if I’m intentionally avoiding you.
When in reality,
I am protecting you
from seeing me fall apart,
from giving you the burden
of feeling you have to help
put me back together.
You think you know
what it’s like
to miss me,
but you have no idea
Because as much as you may miss me,
I miss myself even more.
I am sad to say goodbye to April because it’s been a great month. My participation with #HAWMC pushed me to go outside of my self. Pushed boundaries. Helped me expose myself. Feel a little bit more comfortable with who I am and who I am becoming. Gave me a tiny push that has set a change into motion. A process within myself that I feel is taking place. I’m learning to open up more, to be ok with showing who I am to others. It has also been a great platform to get me out into the chronically awesome and health bloggers community.
