I turned 21 in November, and spent the following two days in bed.
I wasn’t hungover or recovering from some wild night, but so completely exhausted by my small dinner celebration in which I cooked for four of my friends and then sat at a kitchen table for a few hours.
It was absolutely lovely and I loved every part of it, but just the cooking and baking (which was not monumental by any means) had me in pain before the dishes were clean.
What would maybe be tiring for the average able bodied person, my disability makes beyond draining.
In February this year I published a post about my goals for the coming year, and while there were a few specific goals it all really boiled down to being kinder to myself.
I talked about not beating myself up so much and giving myself time to rest, which became part of my need for a diagnosis around my chronic pain.
Validating what I was feeling enough to go through the process of finding an OBGYN and putting myself out there at risk of not being believed or having my pain trivialised was a huge and necessary step.