Remember that time you spent a year with one lung infection after another and you thought you were going to die (for real, not even hyperbole) and you spent so much time in bathrooms sobbing and coughing and completely despondent?
I know you remember, because I’m in your head. Well, it’s my head.
But anyway, just because you’re suddenly coughing like that again, does not mean you’re going to have another year like that.
And I know, that year coincided with a terrifying depression. It was a bad one. We almost died.
And, I know, after that year, fibro. Did that year of lung infections cause the fibro? Did decades of depressions cause the fibro? Did you cause the fibro by being an evil person who deserves to be punished with pain and exhaustion forever? Who knows.
(Not that last one. We know that.)
Anyway, anyway.
I know the coughing hurts, hurts your head, hurts your chest. But I know the coughing isn’t nearly as bad as the fear, because that was a really, really bad year.
It’s okay.
And hey! Not once today did you call your lungs violent and misogynist names, which is a significant improvement on that year. Your good work learning to accept your body is paying off.
I love you, coughbot.
– Me