Tell a descriptive story from memory
There were quite a few choices for this post today. Some that I’ve told snippets about before, some brand spanking new; some were funny, other rather sad and upsetting. However, I settled on sharing a unknown photo with you..
I’d spent the morning at the hospital getting my second loading dose of Humira. I was finally eating again. I’d found some energy to get some lunch made, eaten and enjoyed without too much trouble. I made my way upstairs that afternoon, finally eager to try on a new dress I’d purchased before my last admission. It had be hung on the side of my wardrobe for just over a month and it felt right that I should now try it on for the first time.
I shimmied out of my sweats and into the dress, zipping up the back, all the while feeling my my vertebrate and ribs sticking out as I stretched my arms around myself. My short hair stood up and my hollow eyes had their first shimmer of life in as many weeks. The medication was doing something good, finally. I took a few photos, posing like I used to do; it felt alien and almost foreign to me.. I looked nothing like I used to, I’d been hiding from cameras whilst sick – my last photo being at my university reunion two weeks before my hell with crohn’s began – but I felt like documenting something towards my recovery. I thought to myself, ‘this is the lowest of the low, it can only get better from here.. this is what you shouldn’t ever want to be again’. I took off the dress and cautiously took two more photos.
One of them is above. I’ve never shared it with anyone else before. I distinctively remember feeling so ashamed of my skinny almost naked body. Of how thin my legs and arms were, how flat my belly was, how small my boobs were, how sick I actually looked, even here, on the road to recovery. I never wanted to look that way again. It would be a constant photographic reminder of how sick I was and how I looked.
The worst part? I still wish I was like that.
And I can’t even deny its because I just want to be thin again, I want all the sickness Crohn’s can give me to come and be gone already. I hate this wanting around for the bad times to come around. I hate not being able to plan my life and share everything with the people I love. I live cautiously because of a god damn invisible disease no one else can fully comprehend.