Validation is a rare commodity in mental illness.
There are no blatant physical markers to announce your condition to the world. No x-rays to show your bit of brokenness to doubters.
Symptoms are met as complaints. Responses vary from a roll of the eyes to a “Cowboy it up!” Dismissal then follows.
My 45th birthday is Saturday. If I can’t have a New York Times best-seller, maybe I could have a spot of validation instead?… Just a thought from a mad woman.