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The chronicles of a chronicly sick girl

There is a period of time when my sister was very sickly. She went to the hospital every weekend, and I made fun of her in that sisterly way. I told her she was a pirated/ duplicated version of a human being. Little did I know I will be in a way worse situation.

It all started with a visit at MIT urgent care. I had just had a crisis in my first week of being in Cambridge. 

This sounds weird whenever I tell it to people, but I’ll just drop it here: when I am tired, I cry uncontrollably. It just makes me less tired, however I come out with a horrible headache.

I was on my way to MIT mental when that happened. The nurse in charge thought I probably had some trauma when I cried as she tried to listen to my breathing.

Fast forward, end of freshman year. 

Right after I did my last final exam. I met with my psychiatrist. To this day, he hasn’t told me if I have bipolar disorder or not; despite the fact that I have had experience that point towards it. 

I take five different types of medications each morning and two more types before I sleep. Turns out I am the fake one now.

I don’t regret my diseases though, they are a part of who I am as a person. They have shaped my view of what the world has to offer and what I have to offer to the world.

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