You complain about little stuff, look at me, I have this problem, you could be worse
― the “genius” of my cousin, who got a dislocated finger and never understood (evidently) that I have an incurable-chronic disease. 
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since I am anemic, I suffer the cold weather like I live in the North Pole

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Guys, the Companion Magazine for IBD (edited by my friend Kristin) volume 3 is out! And there’s an article written by me, I dare you to discover who I am!   Read it here

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Having a life


My friends keep sending me snaps of the cool stuff they are doing, and I don’t reply. What am I gonna say? “Hello I’m bedridden, here’s a picture of my ceiling”?

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had mexican food and red wine for dinner and my bowel didn’t complain about it (yet)
whoa whoa whoa
ibd you’re really lame like, if i have a cheese sandwich maybe you hurt like hell but if i have mexican food, maybe i feel like i ate nothing.
shit happens by the way. 

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The horrible dichotomy of having to prove you’re disabled/sick enough but not too disabled/sick. #AcademicAbleism

-IsaJennie ‏@igmurray 15h

This is about the burden of disabilities, mental illnesses, and chronic illnesses in academia but I’m guessing it applies to pretty much any setting where one can request services for disabilities.  Or just life in general.

(via weresnark)

(Source: neurodiversitysci)

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i wish something/someone could take me away from the depression i’m immersed in, the most of the time

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