There are those moments in life when things just go well. They're in a nice, comfy track, everything mostly works as it's supposed to do and suddenly there it is again: doubt.
If things can go well, then there's nothing wrong is there?
I can wake up in the morning, roll over to enjoy a puddle of sunshine, think about what I want to do today and feel totally alone. I listen inside and at the most I hear a content murmur of "Hmm, good" and that's it.
If I can be all alone in the head, does that mean I just imagine the others? Am I just making this up as a defense strategy or something?
When everything is going alright it is a bit like working in an office when work is going smooth. Everyone does their jobs to where you can almost forget they're even there. And then bam, form 2384.5c isn't filled out right and you fall out of your nice illusion.
For me the illusion itself can become unsettling because there is so much attached to "being ill". Am I taking away someone's therapy slot who would need it more than I do? If I can do well for a whole week, doesn't that mean I have to stop being a burden to others and go back to work? Am I no longer allowed to protect myself against the scary things in life?
The latest at that point I realize, oh, this chain of thoughts seems unhealthy.
I do have a lot of what is technically called primary and secondary gain.
Primary gain is finding a way out of internal pressure via an illness. "I can't do that because of my illness", instead of the more work intensive "I don't want to do that". I didn't learn that "I don't want to do that" is a perfectly valid reason NOT to do something. It got so bad that the body would offer to become ill even before I fully noticed that I didn't want to do something. Ambivalent about a party? Night before it I'd come down with a raging cold, sorry, can't go, got ill. It got me out of having to make the decision myself and stand up to what I want.
Secondary gain is how the outside reacts to someone being ill, the extra chicken soup, offers for help, lenience, support, attention, having not to work. The thing is, very few people know that I'm not perfectly "normal". A few more know that I am on disability, but not usually why. An acquaintance mocked me about the way I climb down steep stairs, to be shocked by my explanation that yes, I walk funny because I can't feel my legs and have to check that my feet are positioned right visually.
If people who have known me for years don't fully notice that something is odd, I don't think I capitalize on the secondary gain too much.
Those two forms of gain from "illness" allow me to practice though.
I used to live under the constant pressure of having to be perfect. Never miss anything, never make mistakes, never show a weakness, never need anything, never dare to want anything, never protect yourself, never ask for help. I had to be up to anything, any time, no matter how far beyond my capabilities it went.
Until I broke.
Now I'm not even able to pretend anymore. I still hold a pretty good facade in public. But I am often forced to ask for help. I get support I wouldn't have dared to ask for had I not been backed in a corner with no other way out.
I gain, and with this gain I learn to be more human. Part of a community where everyone has problems and needs help sometimes, instead of being a perfectionist robot who needs no one.
With time it will be important to separate this gain from the label of "illness", because really, it's not gain from being ill, it's learning to be human. I hope that the things I gain at the moment, being able to show weakness, asking for help and receiving it, the love and support of my friends... that these things will be part of my whole life, even if/when I'm healthy some day.
The doubt shows me that I'm not there yet. I don't take these things as a right yet, I wait for someone to find out that I'm not allowed to have them and they'll be gone.
