My doctors appointment was Friday. I’m not sure what I expected, really, I guess I just hoped it would be an easy answer. I should have known better. 

She doesn’t think I have eds, she thinks it’s autoimmune related, yet we haven’t found more than they think I have ibs. Which, unless there’s more to ibs than what is commonly known (which is all I’ve been told) then I really don’t think I have it. But I don’t know. Whatever. 

She gave me orders for labs to be run for autoimmune disorders, as well as for eds. She separated them so I can do them separately if they’re too expensive since I don’t have real insurance. (It’s a sharing program, which is legit, but I don’t know if it covers this stuff. It’s frustrating.) 

Being real, after my appointment I sat in my car crying. I’m pretty sure the other set of labs she’s ordered are ones I’ve already done with no positive results. It’s disheartening to know I have to pay money I don’t have for labs that will more than likely come back negative. I don’t have anything left in me to try and figure out the complex insurance situation, yet I have to find a way to do it. My cousin has her appointment to be tested for eds in a couple weeks, so I’m going to hold off on that until she has her results. No sense spending copious amounts of money I don’t have to be tested for something if she comes back negative. (It’s genetic.) 

I was able to explain to my doctor how I’m not okay. I told her how there are things I’ve previous been able to do just fine and now I can’t. She asked if it was just since I’ve started ballet and I explained how some of it is literally just in the last month. She asked if I was overworked. I laughed. Yes, I am, but I have no choice. And I’m doing significantly less than usual and way more wiped out than usual. 

She did examine me and found my right wrist to be swollen at the joint, which concerned her. She didn’t say much about the rest of the stuff she was looking for. 

I like that she doesn’t make me feel stupid when she thinks I’m wrong. Still, I felt stupid and naive and beat myself over the head on how this all just has to be in my mind, or that I’m making it out to be more than it really is. That I’m just being dramatic and need to get over it. 

Which is all fine and good, until I do just that and find myself getting super sick from pushing through. 

None of it makes sense. 

Yesterday we had snow rehearsal. I had a few friends help me with snow on Fridays to try and get it all clean and together and remember it all. Then my friend Adrienne and I went over it before rehearsal even started to make sure we had it down. 

I still have some working to do, as I can’t quite seem to get the step correctly. My teacher worked with me on it and showed me the proper way to execute it, so I just have to work on it to make sure it becomes fluid the proper way. I happen to be in the front for this part, so it’s extra important. Plus, I don’t want to be the one that messes up the beauty of the part for everyone. I want to do everything I can to be my best, and work hard at this to get it right. 

Sometimes I go along through class and rehearsal and feel like I’m the only one that sees me. That I blend, my details becoming near invisible. Not in a bad way, in an almost comfortable way. But I’m not. We’re seen. There’s always someone looking to us. We have influence, more than we realize. We are each a component in what makes up the big picture that is current reality. And if you ever feel like you don’t matter, just take a second to really realize what that entails. We all matter. We all have value. 

We’re also doing secret santa amongst the Snow cast again. This is my first year participating, and I found myself very nervous leading up to it. But I got someone that I’m excited about giving things to, so it’ll be good. 

We have flowers rehearsal today, which I need to brush up on the ending bit before we get going. I love flowers. I think it’s my favorite dance I’ve done. 

Keep going. Keep enduring. Keep fighting. 

Keep breathing. Half the battle is getting past the voices in your own head telling you you’re not enough. You are enough. You’re more than enough. And you being concerned about being better and striving to do so is proof of that. You’ll get there, my darling. Keep pressing on. 


2 thoughts on “Invisible. ”

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