30/07/2021
Dear Barbie,
21 years ago, I met my very best friend who had a deep love for Barbie.
8 years ago, I started to notice she didn't have the energy like she use to, and had to start missing out on events like birthdays because she was sick. She would usually end up watching a Barbie movie to feel better.
Six years ago, she was diagnosed with POTS. A cardiovascular, neurological condition which causes heart palpitations, blood pooling, chronic pain and fatigue, brain fog, and much more.
I've watched her battle through this diagnosis like a champion. Through the ups and downs of meds that work, meds that don't work, chronic migraines, walking frames, walking sticks, compression stockings, medical appointments and every other thing she's delt with, all like champion, and with Barbie to help her through it.
It was so hard to watch her try and accept her diagnosis. Having to help her get over the guilt of being a "flake" when she'd made plans with people she could no longer keep because of a flare up. Having to reassure her I didn't mind walking slower or to hang back with her because she couldn't keep up. Having to watch her stop swimming. Having to watch her slowly decrease her work load at uni because it was too much. Putting on a brave face even though I knew it was killing her, because it was killing me just seeing it.
Seeing someone you love feel like their worth is depleted because of something out of their control, is the worst when all you can see is everything they're worthy of.
Yesterday, she texted me and was worried about getting a wheelchair for her chronic illness. Her mum suggested it, even offered to pay, but she was still hesitant to get something even though she knew would assist her so much.
For so many years I've watched her having to say no to things because it would impact her health. I know in some ways, she never minded because she (not so secretly) loves being home in bed, but for the things I knew she wanted to be part of, she would have to compromise, compensate and basically do nothing the week leading up to the event, and the week after the event. Which, again, sometimes she wouldn't mind. I knew though if she always had a seat, these things wouldn't dwell on her mind as much.
Today, she sent me a photo of Barbie in a wheelchair. Followed by text saying she got one to try out and had just purchased unicorn space material for cushions.
I almost cried. I've never been so proud of her for showing up for her illness. For showing up for herself. Going out of her comfort zone. Going through all of this, feeling that much better because BARBIE HAS A WHEELCHAIR SO I CAN HAVE ONE TOO AND ITS COOL.
Thank you Barbie, and so many others who have made steps towards inclusion and normalising disability and chronic illness. You've made one 23yo incredibly stoked and confident. I am so grateful.
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