Guess it all is a matter of perspective.....

I live with people who don't believe I'm ill (crazy, special, artistic). I look fine except for being over weight.

The fact that I can no longer function as I once did is not acknowledged or accepted. My world is a living hell because I'm expected to be what I no longer am. Do things I can't remember how to do.

Artistic? Special? Maybe in that me who use to be but not in the me I am now.

I know I should be happy for what I have. I know there are those much worse off than I am. I know I should have faith that things will get better.

And yet with all that knowledge, I'm not grateful. The hopelessness, worthlessness, pessimisim, anxiousness and guilt of my illness rule my life. Finding ways to relieve this never ending pain consume my days.

...........guess I should change mine.

Sorry this got so long. Frogs of little brain have a tendecy to babble.