Choose Some Labels, and I’ll Tell You If You’re a Fraud

1. Pick a label to describe yourself:

1. 1. An avid mead drinker
   2. More of a cat person, really
   3. Weird Al’s #1 fan
   4. There is no option d. You need to pick one.

I’ve always loved personality quizzes. Sure, a lot of tests are worded to make every result feel applicable, but some genuinely lead you to a discovery about yourself. Oh, I hadn’t thought about how I approach friendships in that way… Hmm, I guess that does describe my work style pretty well … Wow, I really am a kiwi smoothie. Even if most of the data gets tossed, there’s something validating, to me, in being assigned a label.

So, you can imagine my frustration that my chronic health issues remain undiagnosed a good seven years after they began. 

After a childhood filled with chronic nausea, a vicious jaw infection that resulted in half of my jaw being surgically replaced, and the general disposition of a bereaved Victorian taking to her fainting couch, I had finally reached a point in high school where I felt…pretty okay. I remember spending hours marching in the sun at band camp, thinking, “Wait, is this how normal people feel? They can just exercise in bright sunlight without needing to dramatically collapse?”

It didn’t last. In college, I was struck by a case of dry eye and photosensitivity so challenging it nearly caused me to drop out. The solutions that helped me function failed again in 2022, and my health took a dive. It was like childhood all over again. 

1. Pick some symptoms to clumsily describe to your loved ones:

1. 1. Severe photosensitivity, where even a dim lamp can feel too bright in the worst moments
   2. Bouts of fatigue that make you feel like you’ve run for miles after a simple walk around the block
   3. A constant feeling of just unwellness. No outward symptoms. Just badness. 
   4. Eye pain on the rocks

After years of unsuccessfully searching for a diagnosis, the real pain is feeling unable to explain how deeply these issues affect my life. I don’t know how to explain why I can’t manage to keep on top of housekeeping when the most minimal physical labor feels like a marathon some days. I feel guilty for being so tired, like the fact that I sometimes have months with energy means I must be faking the rest. When I moved apartments in November, I was too embarrassed to admit that my parents and coworker had to come out and do most of the physical lifting and organizing, because I knew I wouldn’t have the capacity for several days of manual labor. 

Hypothetically, I know you can stand up for your experiences without labels. I’ve begun telling people that I have “a mysterious undiagnosed chronic illness.” Rather than resulting in understanding, though, I find that this leads to a quiz of its own.

1. Pick a solution that you’ve definitely tried by now:

1. 1. Using eye drops
   2. Taking breaks from looking at a screen
   3. Making a list of tasks when you’re low-energy
   4. Not being on that darn phone so much

Labels continue to plague me (get it?) outside of medical mysteries as well. Since a diagnosis is out of my hands, theoretically, being label-less of my own volition should feel better. After all, I can choose whatever label fits, right? But entering into an overtly queer relationship has not been the journey of self-discovery I expected. Instead of uncovering clues from my past that connect red string to red string until the case is solved, this development simply feels like a plot twist, proof that humans are more complex than we always allow, that you can exist in the world and in relationships and still not feel described by the labels available to you. 

1. Pick a coming out-story:

1. 1. Everyone has known this about you since you were a child, including yourself
   2. You had a middle school awakening, after seeing a performer in a movie
   3. A bisexual wizard informs you in a dream. You know how it is.
   4. Sorry, there is once again no option d here

It can feel isolating to not have a label. I come to believe narratives about myself and the places I fit. I buy into the myths:

• You are allowed to be sick if you have a diagnosis and specific accommodations that can be easily explained. 
• You are allowed to discover that you are queer, but this discovery should be tied to a lifetime of revelations and anecdotes, and when you attend your first pride, you should feel like you are finally coming home, and you definitely shouldn’t feel overwhelmed by how many people there are and instantly want to leave. That’s not the right story.

I don’t mind being without labels, but I struggle to be without narratives. There is another version of this post in my mind where I write about coming to peace with my identity, being willing to conceive of a world more mysterious and complex. But that is not the narrative that feels true to me this month. Right now, I just want a quiz result.