Here's a truthbomb for you: I'm not going to get better.
Before you jump in with a barrage of platitudes, please just check your healthy privilege. This isn't about the "what-ifs" and the "maybe somedays". This is about reality, this is about my reality. And if I sound angry, it's because I am angry, and I bloody should be.
This is about looking at what has happened so far, and predicting what will happen in the coming years based on reality. Every month I've gotten sicker. Since five years ago, when I was still able (albeit, with difficulty) to work 30 hours a week, keep myself fed, and keep my home respectably in order all on my own, things have gone so far downhill I can't even see where I started anymore. I can't do any of that now. I can't work. I can't take care of myself or my home without help. I'm no longer financially independent. I can't go most places on my own, and I can't go anywhere without a mobility aid. I can't travel (the two small attempts have been miserable failures). And I've lost a significant chunk of my prime career building, not to mention childbearing years, to chronic illness that has continued to go un(der)-diagnosed. Yes, I cope. I try and make the most of things. But the reality is crushing.