I don’t know how you do it.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

I get this phrase from people all the time. And honestly, I don’t really like it.

I start to explain my life to people, how I’m working three “jobs” dedicated to social justice, managing 12-16 credits of school, working my way through my Lyme treatment protocol, and navigating through so much oppression from the medical industrial complex and widespread ableism. When I talk about these things, often times, people tend to, well, sort of freak out.

Photo on 2-19-14 at 3.29 AM

The people who say this to me cannot fathom the life I’m living. They cannot fathom why I’m doing all of the things I do, or the drive I have. They don’t because they haven’t, and may never have to, experience the trauma that I’ve felt. Furthermore, in their attempt at solidarity and acknowledgement of my struggle, these individuals actually alienate me even more.”I don’t know how you do it” makes me feel like a strange creature, a space that is unable to relate to my peers.

But really, I’m no different from you. I also procrastinate. I also binge on Netflix. I also have the problems you have. The only difference is that my experience with problems I face transcended into something bigger and has given me the drive to do something about it.

So don’t tell me that you don’t know how I do it,
Because honestly, I don’t know how I do it either.