I have thought that no one would want me if they knew the real me for, oh, my whole life. It’s not because I’m an ax-murderer or puppy-hater or anything; it’s just because I’m me, and “me” is very messy, indeed. The inner life of a bipolar can be torture. And then there’s whatever Natasha has to offer on top of it. And then there’s Ehler’s-Danlos. And then there’s fibromyalgia. And, really, I thought no one would want me before those last two really asserted themselves, so I can only imagine how undesirable I am now. But one thing I know is that many people think that no one would want them if they knew the real them. Specifically, I know that many disabled people think that no one would want them if they knew the real them. But do disabilities — bipolar disorder or otherwise — stand in the way of being desirable?

No One Would Want the Real Me

I was awake this morning at 3:30 a.m. This is partly because I go to bed early and partially because I have insomnia. I’ve had insomnia for about two years now. I’m sure a person in my bed would love to have their lover awake and moving about at 3:30 in the morning.

When I wake up, I gasp in pain as I take my first few steps. My body (especially my knees) doesn’t like, um, moving, especially in the morning.

By 5:30 a.m., I was sobbing on my couch, using up tissue after tissue. Waves of sadness, depression, grief, etc., are not uncommon for me. I have bipolar, and I’m in a depression. I have no doubt that someone would adore walking in on their loved one sobbing uncontrollably at random moments. It’s quite the way to start your day.

By 6:30 a.m. I’m taking analgesics for my budding headache, which will undoubtedly plague me all day. Someone by my side would get to see the headache pain on my face for the millionth time.

Blech, the real me is awful.

No One Would Want the Disabled Me

If I were to list all the things that normal people do that I can’t do because of one of my illnesses, it would take up pages and pages. Two of the broad categories are:

  • Exercise — I have exercise intolerance. This means that when I exercise, I feel worse, not better.
  • Listening to sad music/watching sad movies — Anything that might be sad can trigger even worse depression symptoms.

I cannot tell you how much I wish the above weren’t true. I cannot tell you how much I wish I had the mobility of a normal person. I cannot tell you how much I wish things didn’t kick up problems in my brain. But those things are true, I am not a normal person, and things are kicked up in my brain at the drop of an eyelash.

Thank god I’m past the age where people expect me to have kids. That was just another thing I couldn’t (chose not to) do because of my disability.

Would anyone really want someone who is that disabled?

Hiding the Real Me

I’m online dating right now. I’ve connected with a few people and have some dates planned. However, you can bet that none of the above will be discussed on said dates. I’m “lucky” enough that I “pass” for an able-bodied person over coffee or drinks, so no one need know all the above.

Of course, this causes a few problems:

  • No one likes hiding, lying, etc.
  • I’ll have to make excuses for not being able to go on certain kinds of dates (such as a hike).
  • The other person will find out about me if they’re around for a while.
  • I’ll have to deal with rejection when they figure out who I really am.

No One Would Want the Real, Disabled Me?

But here’s the thing, while all the above is true, these scenarios are also rife with exceptions. People out there with all manners of mental and physical illnesses and disabilities find love. True, I don’t know of anyone with my particular combination of crap who’s in a successful relationship, but I have no doubt they are out there. And there is nothing so special about them, or so special about me, that I couldn’t do that too.

And I think that’s the thing to remember. Everyone has faults and issues. It doesn’t matter whether your body or brain is the picture of health; faults and issues still occur. And people everywhere think they are undesirable if people know the real them. Everyone has that fear. Everyone is hiding their worst qualities in plain sight.

So, I guess I’m saying that worrying that no one will want you if they know the real you isn’t a disability issue; it’s actually a human issue. That’s right, in this case, we’ve got nothing on the normies.

And above all, no matter what is wrong with you, no matter what your disabilities are, you are more than that. You are a sparkling, shining human being who glints in the sun. You are special and unique. And there’s always another special and unique person out there who will want that.