One of the hardest parts about living with an invisible illness is the isolation that comes with it. People around you can't see what you're going through. They see you smiling, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy, and they assume you're okay. But inside, there's a storm raging.
I felt like I was on a sinking ship, frantically trying to bail out the water with a teacup. The pain and fatigue were unrelenting, and the emotional toll was even greater. I found myself withdrawing from social activities, avoiding conversations, and slowly shrinking into myself.
But the truth was, I was struggling. I didn't want to be seen as weak or as someone who complained all the time, so I put on a brave face. I pushed through the pain, ignored my body's pleas for rest, and pretended everything was fine.
Simple tasks like getting out of bed or opening a jar became monumental feats. My energy levels were erratic; some days I could barely make it through the afternoon without needing to lie down. It was as if my body had declared war against itself.
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