Sadly in our euphoria about being able to secure a bank mortgage in our own name we have forgotten that nestled inside the original fight was the right of women to not be physically ‘disciplined’ by their ‘husband’. To be treated with respect and care in relation to our physical and emotional needs.
Like any sufferer of a poorly understood illness, I’ve been the victim of misunderstanding and lack of knowledge. I’ve dealt with symptoms that are common among sufferers while at the same time being specific to me. I’ve been discouraged and encouraged. Pathetic and strong. Happy and sad. But interestingly, in all of those states, I’ve always been me.
For me, my failures are real. My inability to achieve perfection is like a scab that I can’t help but pick at. I scrape at the surface, picking the edges so I can remind myself that I’ve failed.