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‘She’: Epilepsy, Mental Health, and Self-Detachment


TW: This article includes discussion of mental health, seizures, medical ableism and discussion of to eating disorders.


I recently sat down to write a poem for a competition entry. It was only when I re-read my work I realised in several stanzas, I referred to myself as ‘she.’ To my surprise, I changed them all to ‘I’ – but then, the poem didn’t feel right. So, I changed them back.

I’ve previously convinced myself that I’m nothing more than a consciousness. It’s usually when I’m in bed and have a chance to think. The more I think, the more life starts to unravel at the edges. The idea that individual souls are connected to individual bodies feels ridiculous, absurd.

The sensation mounts, and then something snaps. Sometimes, it feels like my actual bodily form is changing, until I half-believe that someone completely physically different is lying in my bed. 

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Pain Chronicles: Two Generations of Fibromyalgia

Pain Chronicles is a monthly(-ish) column from Caroline McDonagh-Darwin about coming to terms with living with a chronic illness. It will include funny stories and brutal honesty, with some thrown-in chats with her mum Shaz, and other friends too, along the way.


Not long after I graduated from university, I was at my GP looking for an answer for what was causing my pain. It had started five years or so earlier, just in my knees at the time, but it had become increasingly more widespread.

The young GP looked at my history, asked me some questions, and ordered some blood tests, just to be certain. Then he asked me a very simple question: “What do you know about fibromyalgia?”

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How my ADHD Diagnosis Gave Me Permission to Stop Trying too Hard

My impending return to the office a few months ago had led me to become extremely stressed. But I didn’t think it was actually the pandemic concerns that were setting me astir, so I resolved to investigate something about myself that I’d long suspected.

A few years ago, in therapy sessions, my then-therapist and I had mutually come to the conclusion that it was likely I had a form of ADHD. Getting to this understanding had given me some peace of mind, and I started writing about it in my research and scholarship. 

Reframing my past experiences and social struggles as a legitimate impairment had made me feel a little better, but we still live in a world where a lack of diagnosis creates a bit of a liminal state. 

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In a world that’s meant to be more inclusive, why are ADHD diagnoses still so inaccessible?

With ADHD usually being associated with hyperactive, “naughty” boys at school, the quiet girl with the book wasn’t exactly an ideal candidate.