It’s weird how different I act outside the house, than I do inside the house. Inside the house I’m a pain-riddled person, who shuffles around the house, can just about manage to dress herself. The one who has to hold onto handrails in the shower.
The one who, inside, gives herself the hardest time about that time this week when she knocked another drink, or ended up yelling at someone because she felt completely over-simulated by her surroundings, and is stressed up to her eyeballs because she forgot about that piece of reading that was due for her seminar tomorrow.
On the outside I try and hold everything together. Keeping my anxiety from making me publicallu having a breakdown because I’m well within time but still fear being late to university. On the outside, no one sees my chronic pain or my dyspraxia- so I look like a really ignorant young woman (when is the phrase young woman no longer okay by the way?) when in reality, I’m pushing through pain to move myself enough to get on the train and the tram, so I can get an education- and there’s so much going on in the busy train station, I have to keep checking the board to make sure I get on the right service, and focus on making correct the movements to walk.
But- thinking positively- I’m proud of how I handle myself, and juggle life inspite of all this.
I’m still managing to keep up with, and get good grades, at university- there have been days when I’ve felt I just can’t carry on, but I just do somehow
There are days when my dyspraxia frustrates the absolute hell out of me, especially with what should be simple things- but it’s this that makes me ‘weird’ and most of the time, I embrace that!