This picture makes me happy. That’s the only reason it’s in this post. That is all.

I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia last year; it was a long a gruelling process with many tests but it happened. Actually, it happened a lot faster for me than for many other people – that’s what’s sad about it.

Fibromyalgia is treated as a belief; Doctors regularly tell their patients that fibro is not a real thing and that their patients have mental issues to deal with. While I do have my own mental health to deal with, my physical self is something entirely on its own.

My first doctor (who is technically still my doctor), I’ve had for almost two years. She helped me eliminate the many different issues that may have caused the symptoms of fibro. It took a long time to go through all the tests; you get used to having to get blood work done once a week.

My health has been steadily declining. It’s no big secret, although I don’t like to show others how much pain I’m actually in. Keeping a smile on my face is just as tiresome as dealing with the pain itself.

My health taking a turn for the worse caused me to inquire about long term disability and that is when my doctor took a step back and said that she didn’t believe in that. That being in a subsidized living because I cannot physically keep a job that allows me to make enough to live and also take care of my body enough to actually start to get better.

I didn’t ask for this; I can only move forward. Unfortunately, forward on my current route is also downwards.

My doctor recommended that I get a new family doctor if I was looking to get on to disability because she absolutely refused to sign the paperwork. She just kept telling me to work a full time job and exercise on top of that.

Lady, I have trouble walking to the bathroom each morning – how in hell do you expect me to keep up with your regime?

So I went to get a new doctor. Everything in the world was going wrong and I should have given up at that point – the universe was telling me to go back to bed but I wouldn’t listen.

I got there and the minute he stepped into the office, I could tell something was wrong. I tried to explain that I had fibromyalgia and why I was looking for a new doctor but he cut me off. He doesn’t accept new patients who have family doctors. He wouldn’t let me speak and say why, he just looked at the floor and told me that my doctor was right and I should be able to work a full time job and exercise with the help of an anti-depressant.

Again, I tried to explain but he didn’t want to listen.

I was so angry that as soon as we (since Gabriel went with me) got into the elevator, I threw a punch at the elevator wall. My hand was swollen but I didn’t care; I was just turned away because I had a syndrome and clearly everything I had to say on it was wrong.

The constant pain I’m in is just a shadow of not exercising enough and I just quit my dream job for nothing.

Having to convince others that there’s something wrong with you is frustrating, even more so when the doctors think they know exactly what you’re experiencing.

Well, that’s the icing on the fuckery cake.