The support without the pity, please

One of the hard social issues I hate dealing with is pity.... maybe that's why I get mad when a friend will talk about something and then use the phrase, "I know it's nothing compared to what you've been through..." I guess that goes back to my last post about things being relative, but it's even more than that.
The thing is, when you deal with something every minute of every day it becomes your normal life.  I battle with myself whether it's worse to have acquired medical issues or ones you were born with.  Then again, I don't like to compare, but the emotional and mental dynamics of someone who deals with things like chronic pain, depression, anxiety, PTSD, effected mobilities, or whatever, are fascinating to me.  The different ways people handle their shit is really quite interesting.
Anyone who knew me pre-injury knew a very different Shannon than the one sitting here writing this.  I even remember the last time I saw my grandma Joanie she asked the nurses if they were sure I didn't have brain damage because she didn't recognize the light-hearted person in front of her.  I guess to me there's irony in the fact that my injuries made me less angry, in a sense, and a much nicer person.  Maybe it was the fear of being hideous for the rest of my life, initially.  Maybe it was denial.  Maybe it was trying to be strong for everyone else.

I really, really appreciate the hits in the last few days, and hope people keep reading.
I welcome any feedback or questions, I'm really not too shy about answering anything.  The cause of the injury is irrelevant.
I'm really trying to use this blog as a platform to find my voice, keep me writing (my #1 passion), and find the essays and short stories that will fall out of my fingers and onto my screen.

I figured it'd be nice, especially for people who don't know me, to share a recent picture, because, really, the hospital gown doesn't do me justice!

quite a difference from 6 years ago today: