Keep Your Damn Casserole

I have read that mental illnesses are not a casserole disease. If you get cancer, in an accident, or are injured somehow, people send casserole. When you have bipolar disorder, chronic anxiety, and other invisible illnesses, there are no casseroles.

Keep your Damn Casserole and Just Understand

Well, I am here to tell you to keep your damn casserole. I don’t need your cheesy goodness. Casseroles usually contain sneaky onions, anyway. What I would like is just a little understanding and acceptance. I am so sick of having to explain myself as to why I am not attending the latest bar crawl or overcrowded party place. When I try to tell people that my throat tightens at the thought of having to go to the grocery store sometime this week, they don’t take me seriously. I am not exaggerating – trust me; I wish I were. My head spins upon leaving my house.

Keep Your Damn Casserole

I used to go everywhere and be social as can be. Guess what? I also used to get shitfaced and sit in garbage cans at the bar. That was just hilarious to my “friends”. I was a source of entertainment for all. I was “Jello Jen”, everyone’s funny party girl. At 37, that behavior is no longer cute. It was never cute, actually, just slightly more forgivable in your twenties.

Last month I attended a press trip for work. I try my hardest to do events like this for work. I do everything in my power to keep my work-at-home business thriving. I need it to thrive because it helps me stay sane. Well, this trip mentally and physically exhausted me for a week before and two weeks after. So, for the people that suggest to “just do it”, there’s a price to pay when I do. My adrenal glands go into constant fight or flight mode, and I become an exhausted wreck of a human.

So many people say they get it and that they have anxiety too. Right after that, they post pictures of themselves out doing normal people things looking happy as can be. Then, I’m sorry, but you don’t get it. At least not to the degree in which I am suffering. I become paralyzed at times to even go visit my grandparents or go to CVS down the street. I feel week, embarrassed, and like a worthless sack of a human.

But, no, I do not want your damn casserole. Just stop treating me like I am not trying.

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