Yes you have a degree, you're not a genius.

It's reached that point of my life now where my peers are graduating with fancy degrees and becoming fully paid members of professional societies, whilst I am happy for them I am not happy at all about the recurring theme lately of "poor little Leanne."
Alas, dear reader, I have never studied in those hallowed halls nor have I racked up a substantial debt which directly correlates to my blood alcohol level. I gained early acceptance at two different universities and was all ready to take my place amongst the fresher throng when tragedy struck and my life was tipped upside down.
I was too busy battling for a diagnosis and learning not to walk like a dinosaur to think about going to lectures or writing essays. I didn't even finish my first two attempts at college life and while I am far from a genius, actually not that far according to my mensa testing as a child, I am certainly not stupid.
Yet these freshly graduated morons seem to think I am, they have conveniently forgotten how many times I have beaten them at scrabble or helped them cram revision in at 2am, in order to treat me like a simpleton.
Unless I have forgotten everything I knew in the four years they have been at University then there really is no need to explain their language, describe what their degree is in or generally talk to me like a toddler. In fact, I have worked with toddlers and I wouldn't have spoken to them the way I am spoken to.
So here is a message to everyone, degree or none. We're not idiots, we know things you could never imagine, we experience more hardship in a day than most people will in a lifetime, we may never have letters after our names but we are bright, strong and valuable. We neither want nor need your pitying words, it is a shame that some of us didn't get to follow our plans but that is our issue to accept, not yours to pity.
I'm not a fool, don't treat me like one.

Could you smile through this?

Okay so here's how I know that my physical health has a direct and significant impact on my mental wellbeing. I'm often told that being ill is no excuse for being miserable and 75% of the time I agree, I know some bubbly people who face terrible physical adversity, but when the world hurts you how can you be happy?
Today the world is painful for me.
Lights are too bright, even with sunglasses on an overcast British day I'm squinting.
Every sound feels like its boring into my skull, the sounds most people don't even here are crushing me, I can hear the buzz of the lights like a banshee is screaming in my ear.
My own skin feels like sandpaper, the softest clothing I own is burning my skin, tearing chunks out of my flesh with barbed wire.
My three layers are no defense against the mild weather currently freezing my extremities and turning my joints into iced over pits of hell that click, burn and throb no matter what position they are in.
The vibration of the bus, while usually a slight annoyance, is coursing like lightning through me, ripping my nerves to shreds.
That's without all of the muscle twitches, pin and needles, headaches, jaw pain, knee pain, swollen joints, fatigue, brain fog and the general feeling of destruction in my day to day life. With all of this going through my body how am I suppose to feel happy? Or grateful? Or even anything other than a deep desire to crawl into a warm, dark place, curl up in to a ball, or as much of a ball as my unflexible joints and muscles will allow, and die.
could you?