I'm Amber
28 year old Aussie
Spoonie
Vegan animal lover
recovering self-harmer
BPD/depression fighter
Pro LGBT rights supporter
All the good shit
♡
“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that...
If any of you fuss about it , or frown about it, or worst of all if you bore me with your sympathy. That’s just seconds wasted, seconds wasted making music. Which is all I want to do with the time I have left.
Daddy’s little girl paints the world with her magic wand. Daddy’s little child breathes new life to the morning time for me. Though we’re apart, her thoughts follow me. When I come home, Molly smiles with the dawn. Molly smiles, and she radiates the glow around her halo. When she plays, Molly smiles. On a summer day, Molly smiles. A new day, Molly smiles.
The chronic illness cycle always goes something like;
“Wow! I’m really just able to do normal people things today! Maybe I shouldn’t even call myself disabled!”
Then the next day (today), I could barely sleep through the pain, could barely get out of bed, new pains surfaced which I didn’t know was still possible, had to use my shower chair, struggled to change my clothes.
I’m doing better overall but I still catch myself hoping one day I’ll just wake up fine again. Even though I know in the logical part of my brain that’s not how any of this works.
Being disabled but seeming functioning is annoying because no one takes you seriously. I’m in excruciating pain all the time, but the moment I say anything or make my accessibility needs known, I’m simply just complaining and making a big deal out of nothing.