24. Christian. Chronically ill. Chronically sassy. Idiot Savant. Punk Rock Goddess. Secret badass. Chronic dreamer.
This is an open, and honest look. Into the diary of spoonie. Making sure that I document all the unpleasant; and at times tragic, humorous, ironic, painful, numbing, maddening, and beautiful moments. That happen in my life, while dealing with Chronic Illness. My hope is that, this will be the memoirs of my journey to health; happiness, and a majestically-ridiculous existence. Because when I get there, I want to be able to look back at how far I've come. And hopefully help someone like me, feel a little less alone in their spoonie lives, by visiting The Spoonie Kingdom.
So... It will be either that, or an uncomfortable, confusing, mood swing laced, and moderately disturbing blog. Where I chronicle my journey to the nut house, with a padded room, with my name on it. Either way, this should be fun.
Welcome To The Spoonie Kingdom♔
Enjoy your stay.
And you know something else? What makes absolutely NO sense to me. Is clearly guys want to have sex… bad. And you would rather spend ALL your energy, YOUR LAST DYING BREATH. On these tactics that DO NOT WORK. When all you have to do… is talk to the damn girl, take her out a couple of times. Do like the bare minimum of wooing… and she’ll probably, more than likely fuck you.
But no, that’s too difficult. God forbid, you have to treat a girl like a person. You’re the 3rd guy, this WEEK who has tried this shit. And that’s why I’m a 24 year old virgin. Because i’d rather turn into the Hulk from sexual frustration. Then to have sex with a guy, who can’t buy me a cup of coffee and talk to me. It’s such, bullshit.
I hateee anxiety. This overwhelming sense that, “somethings wrong”. You know you’re fine, but your brains impending doom is very convincing.
Birthday nails & henna for this spoonie!
Dat cake doe.
My face is ridiculous.
Like I ain’t never seen cake before…
I haven’t slept in days Brittany
I’m Cramping Brittany
I’m about to cry Brittany
And it’s just a vicious cycle of Brittanys I HATE. Funny enough, hormone problems never have a “happy” phase.
but ily for trying<3
Having not one, but two hormone disorders. Is similar to a poorly, poorly, written script where someone is trying to depict a Bi-Polar disorder/Multiple Personality Disorder mash up. My mood changes more than a teething toddler. And I never know which Brittany is going to appear. It happens in a flash, and it’s quite unsettling. There are so many versions of myself floating around.
I hate them all.