I’ve not been writing in my journal or updating this blog since the altercation with the psych. It left me questioning myself and it left me in a pit of despair, scrambling to get out, bloody fingered and muscle worn. But I’m slowly beginning to see, sometimes ‘professionals’ judge us wrong. They insist they are right, to the point of arrogance and there is no reason I should carry the shame they should feel.

My illness is real. I have ‘positive signs’ and I sure as hell feel it.

It’s hard for medical professionals to diagnose us. They don’t see us much, at most an hour, and many are not repeat and regular doctors. It’s just the way the system runs.

It’s our families and sometimes friends who see the seizures. It’s the careers who clean up the mess and it’s the patient who feels the pain. We cannot document our lives 24/7, even with social media. The ugly truth is hidden, that’s why illnesses like mine are invisible.

I set my social media accounts to private. I even set this blog to private. I am that distressed by that doctors behaviour that I feel I am no longer safe to raise awareness publicly. He has changed the way I function. I can’t be me anymore. He has boxed me in. My purpose was to make sure this illness was not in vain and something positive came from it, so, I began writing and I’m even having some stuff published by the APTSDA. He’s taken that from me, at least until my complaint and appeal are over.

Thing is, I won’t hide forever. I never have and I never will.