I wish I could be someone else.

Sometimes. Not all the time.

Sometimes it’s hard not to when I compare myself to other people, which I admit I have a hard time refraining from.

I wish I could have better social skills like so-and-so, I wish I was married like her, I wish I didn’t have so many disabilities.

Well, you can’t actually leave it. But you can pretend to.

And I refuse to do that.

I will use my albinism to understand people who feel different, because I know how it feels. I will use my chronic fatigue syndrome to have compassion for other people who can’t work, because I can’t work too much either. I will use my depression to love people who can’t make themselves feel better, because I used to believe it was my fault I felt bad, and now I know it’s not. I will even use my anxiety–oh I hate my anxiety–to understand when people can’t do things because of what’s in their heads, even if their bodies could do it, because I remember when my anxiety made my body stop working. I will use my Borderline Personality Disorder to tell the world that struggles do not equal lack of character, because I won’t stand for the stereotype of BPD, not when I’ve been through hell to get treatment to be a decent human being. I will use my autism to understand the misunderstood, because sometimes I am, too.

Sometimes I hate those things about me, and I wonder if other people do too. I can manage them, but I can’t completely change them.

I’ve learned Radical Acceptance from Dialectical Behavioral Therapy–where you have to accept reality how it is, not how I wish it would be. I use this skill over and over and over.

As I’m writing, I have a purring kitty in my arms. I have a roof over my head. I have a care professional to help me almost every day. I have people that love me.

I use Radical Acceptance all the time.

Now I’m trying to learn thankfulness and contentment for my circumstances… And even tenderness and love towards myself.