Many people in the lives of those who have IH often cry out their frustration on how we aren't there. How we miss out.

We get called flaky for not showing up...but what they don't see is that we wanted it so much...but as we were getting ready, our bodies gave up on us like cars that leave you on the side of the road.

We get called ignorant when we get there...but they miss how hard it was to get there, how our eyes are heavy from exhaustion, how every single movement is like wading through tar. We are in pain. We showed up...and for them, it isn't enough.

We get called boring because sometimes we can't even speak from exhaustion. Our cognitive abilities drop to mumbling and keeping it together is all we can do.

And more often than not...people see these things and decide that they don't want to invite us anymore.

We won't come anyway.
Or if we do, we fall asleep...or won't even be part of the happenings.

But here is the flip side of it.

We wanted to come.
We pushed to come because we care and we wish we could speak...and every time we miss something, it hurts.

It hurts because the people we love don't see our pain, or care about it. They don't see how hard we fight because it is "invisible"...even when our speech slurrs without us ever taking a drink, fall asleep on any available surface, stare into the void because micro sleep has taken us, forget everything you said because part of our brain are off, live day-to-day in pain visible in our surroundings, in the way we hurt...and slowly are left alone.

The reality of IH is that we miss having a life you have. We never chose to lose it.

Hell, I never had it before I was 22...so if you ever think of saying to someone who actually fought their way to you through a battlefield of agony, perhaps instead of complaining...

Say thank you for coming.