What Doesn’t Kill Us…

I used to always say, “what doesn’t kill us, only makes us stronger”. This was literally my favorite quote and one I thought related to me the best. After all, I had survived through an expediently amount of horrible things that the vast majority of people would have given up on. My friends always told me I was so strong and they envied me for it. 

But, alas.. here we are nearly 40 years later and have come to realize that the quote was bullshit. Some people have one or two bouts of hardship and quotes that phrase. But 40 years of constant shit storms of mass proportion with life ruining horrid illnesses begs for your demise. Quite honestly, my demise would be a welcome gift at this point. 

I no longer say, “what doesn’t kill us, only makes us stronger”. It’s entirely inaccurate. 

You can only rebound into a stronger person after one or two blunders and with the help of a support system of friends and family and a system that acknowledges your illness and has a means of treating it. None of which I had. I had insane amounts of untreatable illnesses that were shrugged off by family and friends and worse, by a government that wouldn’t acknowledge my conditions as being real thus deprived me of treatment, social security disability, or even a diagnosis all because they couldn’t “see” it nor had any “concrete proof” via blood work or X-ray to prove it. Even doctors looked at me as if I was an alien or speaking a foreign language. 

I had to go it all 100% by myself. Alone. I always tell myself I should do that show “Alone” since I’m used to being alone and prefer it now and I’ve suffered far worse for far longer. At least I could get money for being alone and miserable. Something that others had failed me on. 

If I can’t work, I can’t get insurance, I can’t get money to see a doctor, I can’t get better, I can’t find another job, I can’t get money to pay rent, I can’t find a place to live, I can’t afford to keep my car, I can’t buy food, I can’t live.

I can’t write if I can’t breathe.

I’m suffering. I’m being tortured. I’ve been doing it all alone for 40 years and nothing has killed me yet. Not all the stints of pneumonia. Nothing.

There is only so much a person can handle when forced to deal with it all themselves. 

You will break. You will shatter. But you won’t overcome like the others.

Now I say, “what doesn’t kill us, only makes us more pissed off”.


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