During my 8 day stay last June, I had a different doctor than I had a couple months earlier when I was hospitalized in April. The second doctor was awful. At the time, it was still mandatory to wear masks in the hospital due to the ongoing pandemic, he would ask me to remove the mask to attend my own appointment. He wanted to see my smile. I had felt hopeful during the first round at the hospital; the doctor acted like she was my friend, made me feel like we were building a doctor-patient bond and I felt that she actually cared about my recovery and healing. She had said that I would see her intern until early May than she would take over my care until the next intern would be available. Well, when the intern left, I was dropped and I was experiencing the lack of communication in regards to my final standings and grades to graduate, I fell apart. I held myself together until a couple days after the graduation ceremony. Please see graduation photo above to see how held together I really was. The second round at the hospital was harder but I knew I needed to get home so I played nice, gave the doctor the impression I was the broken housewife that doesn't feel like she's contributing (partly true) but I didn't share my same experiences with this doctor as I did in April... and even though I wanted to get home in the first week, the misogynic doctor eventually let me go home on the 8th day - - - I was not better. I think I felt it was easier to be in my house than in the hospital that reminds me that I helped relatives beyond my own means and in return I am alone and suffering in a building that holds a family name that destroyed me. Always trying to please and never getting acknowledged.
I decided this spring, in early April, that I was going to speak up/speak louder because someone who inspired me is no longer in this world. I have been quiet for far too long; I am broken and I will not sugar coat my sad fucking existence anymore.
"I have Fibromyalgia - thank you for being considerate," diagnosed with Fibromyalgia in 2018, I am still struggling to understand my illness and learn to cope with my pain.
In spring 2022, I was diagnosed with chronic depression, c-PTSD and Borderline Personality Disorder. Everyday was yesterday in my mind & in the flashbacks I was routinely suffering through. Three months after my second suicide attempt, I moved to a new community to begin my healing journey.
is an homage to my favorite childhood book series, Martine. I love the symbolism of the hot air balloon that I, Mallory, am navigating life with chronic illness while on a healing journey.