My progressive illness is like a thief that comes, day after day, to wrestle my illusions away from me. In an epic tug of war, I struggle to hold on to the idea that my accomplishments and the things I do for other people determine my lovability.
I spend my precious energy fighting to uphold the standards that I have set for myself — my physical attractiveness, the ability to take care of and provide for myself, control over my bodily functions, and a hundred other accomplishments that used to be within my reach.
Little by little, I lose the fight to live up to the bar I have set for myself. As I catch a glimpse of my next loss, I brace myself and try desperately to stop it from happening.
Read more on themighty.com