Name Change Petition for Visibility

PETITION FOR CHANGE OF NAME (ADULT)

IN THE MATTER OF: Invisible Illness

FOR CHANGE OF NAME TO: Visible Pain Sufferer

I, Invisible Illness, whose address is 7 Trillion Nerves, Human Body, H.s.s 12345, state that:

1. The name I was given at birth is Invisible Illness.

No one asks a person with cancer to justify their bald head, sudden lack of energy, or disinterest in more than a single bite of food. There’s never even a request for a clarification of the “flavor” of cancer they’re incubating. The subject is taboo. If your lips part in curiosity, the world silences you with a fierce glare - the equivalent of a parental reprimand when you dare to ask Uncle Bob why he’s not allowed to drive anymore.

Someone missing a limb, an appendage, or a digit receives immediate awe and accolades. Every feat and accomplishment, from the mundane to the extraordinary, deserves recognition. You feel an expectation to dance the line between offering assistance and waiting for them to acknowledge your presence on the sidelines. Ignoring their existence is sacrilege. Society pressures you to SAY SOMETHING, regardless of what the person may wish.

The universe singles these individuals out with neon signs and electric paint.

My body undergoes the same sabotage, uncertainty for the future, and daily struggles. Yet I stand in a shadow of obscurity. Because I wear an unimpressive camouflage of unblemished skin. (Relatively speaking - scars are unimpressive in the hierarchy of medicine) If I dare to take my place beside the bodily condemned of the world, society sneers and shoves me back into the midst of the anonymous.

How dare I attempt to call attention away from those who most deserve adoration?

2. My name has been changed to the following since birth for the following reasons:

• Liar - There’s no such thing as Fibromyalgia

• Faker - No one sees anything to account for the pain

• Attention-Seeker - There is nothing wrong with me

• Lazy - It’s easier to assign labels than understand

• Hysterical - I’m a woman

The senses deceive.

Hearing distorts, warping and twisting as sound waves bounce around corners and through whispered fingers. (Until it disappears completely with advancing age and the denial of a need for hearing aids)

Vision blurs, doubling in intense light and conjuring shapes and fears in darkness, prompting people to believe in paranormal visitors and rabid bogeymen.

Smell jumps ship with the first invasion of a certain virus, taking taste along for the ride.

Touch claims superiority but caves to temperature pressures, rendered insensible by nerve damage.

Yet the senses continue to define existence.

A duck needs to quack to prove his membership in the aquatic waterfowl club.

Yet a parrot can learn to quack in the same pitch and tone. He’ll never learn how to swim, though, much less build a nest on the banks of a pond. Doesn’t matter to the general public. A feathered creature produces a quack; it’s a duck.

To claim pain without physical proof of the source is madness. The world demands blood, bone, bile. SOMETHING to justify screaming, crying, and shaking.

If there’s nothing to see, taste, smell, hear, or touch, it does not exist.

3. I am requesting this change of name because: My current name does not represent the truth.

“Invisible” is a joke.

The world sees me. But not as a person wrestling with a busted nervous system. They see me as a reflection of some inner demon they’re attempting to ignore. My lack of outward indications of ill health makes me the perfect candidate for transference.

My need to sit on a bench on a trail, in a park, or at a museum represents their inherent laziness. They have no need to look beyond the lack of sweat on my skin to the creasing lines around my eyes. My middle-aged occupation of a seat is enough to condemn their guilty habits.

I am abhorrent. (LAZY!)

The days I sit outside to read, baking the icy chill of air conditioning and heating vents out of my skin, I call attention to their idleness. They can remain ignorant of the time I spend writing notes after dinner, before bed, and in the middle of the night. I dare to step away from daily work and shine a spotlight on their wandering mind.

I am repellent. (LAZY!)

My illness is invisible.

I am not.

I am painfully visible.

4. I want my new name to be Visible Pain Sufferer.

We stare in horror at victims of physical abuse. (Surreptitiously. No one wants to admit they’re fascinated by bruises) There’s a stunning sickness of wonder at how much the human body can withstand and continue to remain upright. We sneak equal glances of shock and admiration. It compels us to rush forward and offer assistance, tease out tales of battles won, and watch survivors struggle forward.

We fancy we could do something similar, should the situation arise.

My body isn’t gracious enough to inflict visible wounds. It conducts its torment layers beneath the surface, bruising tissues invisible to even the most critical eye. So I stare in the mirror, painting damage onto my skin with imaginary brushes. Hollywood’s most talented makeup artists would shudder in fear (The Walking Dead zombies have nothing on me). I could provoke children’s tears at the snap of a finger.

As people sneer at my slow climb upstairs, I glance at my reflection in the convenient glass. I want a moment to see myself through their eyes.

And forget the horror I’ve created. It’s easier than forgetting the agony I can’t run away from.

5. The purpose of my request is not for any illegal or fraudulent purpose.

Actions require justification.

The world demands motive. Chickens can’t cross streets without express written permission.

Take time off work? Park in a handicapped space? Rent a wheelchair? Pop a painkiller? Fall asleep under a heating pad? Step into the ER?

Why? What prompts the action?

Demonstrate the need - with concrete proof.

It’s the sadistic version of every math problem issued in elementary school.

Pain is accepted, sympathized with, even empathized with, but only so long as it remains visible. Otherwise, every action remains suspect.

There’s another motivation at play.

Even when you can’t play.

FOR THESE REASONS, I REQUEST MY NAME BE CHANGED FROM Invisible Illness TO Visible Pain Sufferer.

I SOLEMNLY AFFIRM, UNDER THE PENALTIES OF PERJURY, THAT THE CONTENTS OF THIS DOCUMENT ARE TRUE TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE, INFORMATION, AND BELIEF.