I tell you I hurt all over
and you inform me that the pain is all in my head
Okay, I think,
Maybe it’s my anxiety that’s causing me to hurt.
I tell you I am debilitated by chronic illness
and you insist that I don’t look sick
Okay, I wonder,
Am I really as sick as I say?
I’m a six year old telling you that my eyebrows hurt
and you assure me that I’m imagining it
Okay then, I decide,
my eyebrows must not hurt after all.
I tell you I restrict my eating to the point of danger
and you exclaim that I’m too fat to be anorexic
Okay, I consider,
I must be eating more than I realize.
I tell you I drink enough water every day
and you demand that the tests show otherwise
Okay, I question,
maybe I forget to drink more often than I realize.
I’m shouting for your attention by silently starving myself
but you refuse to see what’s right in front of you.
Okay, I muse
my pain must not be so important.
I tell you that I know I’m not pregnant- I had a hysterectomy 8 years ago
but you require a pregnancy test anyway
Ok, I chastise myself,
I must have not been clear enough in my explanation
I tell you that I’m going to the hospital because I’m in excruciating pain
and you ask me if I really feel awful enough to go
Okay, I suppose,
maybe I’m just being a hypochondriac
I cry when you tease me
and you tell me it was just a joke
Okay, I sigh,
I must be overly sensitive
I tell you that I remember being touched after saying no
and you insist that you would have known if that really happened
Okay, I agree,
I can’t trust my flashbacks anyway
I tell you that sex feels like I’m being cut by a thousand shards of glass
and you urge me to keep those words unspoken in our community
Okay, I whisper,
I must be the only one
I try to share my endo journey to help others who suffer
and you chastise me that I’m being immodest
Okay, I realize,
my story only makes people uncomfortable
You doubt me
you blame me
you invalidate me
you gaslight me
you laugh at me
you question me
you minimize me
you silence me
Okay, I’m left to wonder,
Do I even exist at all?