'You look so well’

I’ve never been very well, it used to show alot (through my bones and skin) and I remember the constant comments from working at the Dragon, or the offers to chat 'because you don't look like you're doing too well' from friends, family, even strangers.

I did not get better, I am still not better but I reflect on the times I used to cellotape stones and coins to my thighs, tummy and arms to stop the comments and the lowering numbers that kept showing up on those fucking piercing white rotating scales of the NHS (so much love and respect to them however).

I no longer have to do that daily cellotaping routing but that person and voice is still there and whenever anyone says ‘Wow you look so well!’ all those coins I held once before drop and shatter, every single cell in me and the shame grows more intense, like a wave of fucking terror and loneliness, maybe that I wouldn't have had to endure if it wasn’t for all this, but I do wonder why it felt so empowering and uplifting and like pure joy itself when it was happening.

Nothing makes sense, bigger or smaller, sadder or happier it’s all just trying to stay alive and act like your alive without the questioning of others.

But there is nothing that drops and shatters more than shame and fear and self loathing, and just wishing for it to be over- at least there’s a comfort in it being over one day sooner each day.

Because not everyone dies but not everyone lives fully again.