I was raised with a lot of ableist notions. Mental health was not really talked about, physical health somehow even less, and things were left to the wayside. I knew those things existed, but the bottom line always seemed to be "If you are no okay, it is YOUR OWN FAULT". I internalized that HARD.

As a kid I felt awful for napping longer than anyone else, for sleeping in every car ride I ever was on, and feeling so sleepy so often. That continued to my teens where I tried EVERYTHING to just keep up. I spent my allowance on things no other teen was buying - from strange teas to pills that were supposed to help. (They didn't.)

And as a young adult, I was struggling. I did everything I could do to be employable. I worked in a kiosk for a few months before going to golsmith school. I was good at it - always got good grades and praise for my work. But I was also hurting myself in the process - inside my head, and by accident. I burnt my hands often, stabbed them, cut them, mishandled things, and there wasn't a week where I didn't have a new bandaid in my hands.

It took me almost losing my hands to realize I needed help, it was serious, and I had tried everything I could. My micro sleeps were so out of control despite long sleeps, that it was not only dangerous to me, but to others. It was out of my control.

That incident was what woke me to the reality that I had been fed poison, and only cure for it was to face what was actually happening. I was not doing well. Nobody else was struggling like I was - IT WAS NEVER NORMAL LEVEL OF SLEEPINESS!!

I wish that moment had come sooner, in time when someone else could have helped me...but it didn't. Nobody cared enough when I was a kid. Nobody saw when I was a teen. I had to do it as an adult.

I hope more of us get the support we need before it comes to a "reality check"-time.

Take care, mask up, stay safe, and I'll be back with a new comic in couple of weeks again. <3