Withdrawal

I don't know how today started like this. Although calling it the start of the day might be generous—it was 12:10.

We were on the bus—hot, loud, and cramped—wrapped in our forest green mock velvet cloak.

We jostled, pitched and turned down the main road, swaying from side to side to side to... 

Next thing we remember, we were on all fours in the street, puking up what little we'd eaten—a bag of crisps and two small cookies.

I suppose this might be as good a time as any to introduce myself. I am Sapphire. Or Sapph to my friends. Not that I have many friends. They're all Ivy's friends. 

And as mum always said, we're little more than symptoms and entities possessing her daughter, and that, with time and therapy, we can be exorcised for good. Cured. Fixed. Become whole again. Without realising that the whole picture, the big picture, she wants to see isn't the same as the one she expects—and never will be.

Funny, isn't it? Nothing like a parent's love to keep you going. 

I think that is why we struggled so much to tell them about the eating... thing. Thing. Thing. It has a name. It is an OSFAED. 

Or an Otherwise Specified Feeding and Eating Disorder. Which is a mouthful in itself, so we'll stick with the acronym... 

We do love an acronym. We have many. 

ADHD. 

DID. 

FND. 

PTSD from nearly a dozen incidents of SA and SV. 

Not to mention receiving UC and ADP.  

And of course, being a loud and proud member of the LGBTQIA+. Though, if you met us, you would already be very well informed of that bit. We don't exactly ooze straight. According to Tom, we are the only person he knows who flounces into a room with all the queer energy of the Duracell Bunny during Pride Month. 

We often joke that if we get one more condition or acronym, we win a free hot chocolate. Well, it's nicer than coffee, in our opinion. 

But yeah, OSFAED. Sounds like a school inspection. We half expect to get a report card whenever there is a particularly bad flare up. Ivy got a D in eating this term. 

Must improve. SEE ME!!!

Well, we get good days and bad days. Days where we can eat, and days when we can't. 

Tom thinks it's because we have been off our meds for too long. He's probably right—we have been. We just forget to take them from time to time. Only remembering to, after we have shivered, and fevered, and ached, and sicked for five days (and counting). Withdrawal, they called it. 

That word carries a heavy stigma and shame around it—a word usually associated with taking drugs and other stimulants. So to say we are in withdrawal just invites unwanted and unnecessary judgment from others. And we get quite enough of that already—what with being a queer, 27-year-old (freshly turned) trans system living in 21st Century Britain, with a government goosestepping its way further and further towards a period of history that, although they constantly say "NEVER FORGET", FORGET and repeat on a near daily basis. 

We're told to be thankful we are not in America. But given the recent Supreme Court rulings, as well as our own battles with Chalmers GIC over our unfair, callous, and completely inaccurate surgery rejection (because apparently the 'Tism and DID is a red flag that prevents surgeons from operating on us; which is "nonesense"—not my word, the word of someone in the field of DID studies and psychotherapy) it feels less and less safe to be our true, authentic selves. 

But yeah… we're in withdrawal. 

Today's public incident marks day two of our body adjusting, once again, to being back on the meds. 

FYI, it feels awful. Truly awful. The gnawing. The pangs. The lack of and then the abundance of appetite. Weight fluctuations. Mood swings. Cramps. Aches. Pains. Vertigo. The list is almost as exhausted as we are. Almost. 

We keep saying we will never forget to take them, so we never, ever feel this crap again. 

And we won't.  

For a little while, at least.

Then, as if on cue, we'll forget. 

And the cycle just ... repeats. 

So yeah… that was today. Pretty rough health-wise, but spent in wonderful company. And that helps make the bad that little bit more tolerable. 

I don't like feeling like this. But... with my partner at my side, we will get through this. Just like we did the last time. 

And the time before that. 

And before that.