TheChalkDoll

Overheard two 13 year olds having a conversation today in a cafe. "I hate Jenny. I mean she could just literally go die in a hole." "She bullies me and my friends." "She thinks she's so cool." I felt like saying to them. "The cliché of middle school drama never ends. Poor Jenny too, I wonder what she's going through that is causing her to act like this. You sound something out of high school music or mean girls. I didn't think those movies were so accurate." Unfortunately, wise words from an adult stranger in a cafe would not be socially acceptable, so I kept my peace, just continuously overhearing the conversation while eating my meal.

A diagnosis is both a golden ticket and a prison sentence. On one hand your questions have been answered and you know what you have wrong with you. Hurrah! On the other hand, something is wrong. It's not just a bug bite or a mild irritant, it's something that requires help. Especially if it's chronic. How will I cross this bridge to hope when I'm knee deep in the quick sand on the other side? Simultaneously I must know I'm trapped and have the hope for freedom. Chronic. Okay. Treatable but not curable. Hmm, seems to be another hurdle. But I suppose I can't control it, so watch me, I'll join the Olympics. I'll go for the high bar. No matter what, I'll be amazing even if my diagnosis is not.