These are my confessions...

I'm tired. I'm so fucking tired. And I don't necessarily mean in the 'I need more sleep' sense, though that is part of it. 

I'm tired of hurting.
Tired of bad sleep.
Tired of random and constant pain.
Tired of not being able to do anything without fear of hurting.
Tired of having to rest after doing small things.
Tired of taking handfuls of pills twice a day.
Tired of asking for help.
Tired of not being able to do things on my own.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of arguments.
Tired of crying. 
Tired of feeling like a burden.
Tired of feeling like I've done something wrong.
Tired of feeling not good enough.
Tired of walking on eggshells. 
Tired of being scared.
Tired of keeping everything in. 
I'm just fucking tired of it all. 

I shouldn't feel like this. I'm so angry. I'm so upset. I feel hopeless some days, like I'm always going to be in the dark tunnel and that I'll never see the light at the end. I'm angry with myself, at myself. For things that are beyond my control. I'm fucking angry at my illness. I never fucking asked for this, and in my opinion, it's made me a worse person than I was. It has ripped from me too many things - my sleep, my movement, my mind, my well-being, my self-esteem, my sex drive, my normalcy, my dreams, my aspirations, my willpower, my motivation, my identity. 

I'm scared. I'm so terribly scared. I'm scared because I'm broken, broken beyond repair, and no one wants to be with someone who's broken. I'm terrified that one day it's just going to be too much for him, because he never signed up to take care of someone sick, and he's going to leave. He's going to get tired of me hurting, of my pain, of my fatigue, of my inability to perform basic tasks, of my need to constantly rest, and he's just going to leave me. That a younger, healthier, skinnier, prettier model is going to come along and he's going to upgrade and leave me alone, and broken. I'm terrified that the fact that our sex life is nonexistent is going to push him away. Again. It has got so bad that I have put heavy and serious thought into tossing my pain tolerance to the wayside and forcing myself to have sex every day, just so I can sate him. And then go and cry about the pain once I'm alone, behind locked doors where no one would see me. If I thought that would save my relationship, I would do it in a heartbeat. 

No one wants to hear my complaints, my fears, my worries, my troubles. And I understand that. Everyone has their own complaints, fears, worries, and troubles to deal with.  Taking on someone else's isn't something that others want to do. So I sit here in relative silence, and try to make everything look pretty and normal on the outside. And on the inside... I feel like I'm dying. I have everything that I listed before piling up inside me, threatening to spill out for everyone to see and I'm trying so hard to keep everything tucked in, keep all the pieces picked up, keep up the face that always smiles and never cries. 

These are my confessions, and here is where they will stay.