Can I be real with y'all?

I feel really sick right now. I'm achey all over. My joints are screaming at me. I'm vomiting and dry heaving. My eyesight is blurry and I'm getting these odd flashes of light in the edges of my vision. I'm afraid that my cortisol is dangerously low again. I'm scared that I'm having another bout of renal failure. I feel alone and all I want to do is curl into someone and cry. But I'm thinking being touched will make the physical pain worse. But I'm sure it would be worth it. I'm feeling really disphoric. I don't know if I want to hormonally transition, and if I do, I don't know where it's coming from. Is that how I want my body to look, or am I internalizing binarism, and do I have to reconcile those things? And even though I'm feeling dysphoric, I abolutely refuse to frame it as body-hate. I spent damn near all my life hating my body. Hating the spasms, the scrawny crip legs, the gnarled gimp toes. The leathery scars left by non-disabled white cis male doctors who cut me open and filled me with shame. I've learned to love my body by being around beautiful crip/queer/trans*/perverts. But fuck it. Let's be real. This hot mess of a body is hard to love all the time, and sometimes I feel deeply betrayed by it. Love isn't always easy, and I can't do it myself. I need to be touched and loved and caressed and fucked when I feel like I want it. I want to feel connected to something again. I want warm, cllamy skin against mine. I'm angry that my non-disabled friends couldn't hold my anger--that they sometimes caused it and silenced me when I called them out on it. I'm ashamed that I made them feel like they weren't good enough, even when they tried their damndest to support me and love me. This is what's underneath those scars I lovehate so much. Confusion, desire, revulsion, serenity, pride, passion, love, patience, anger. I feel really broken. And I'm trying to learn that I don't need to be whole to be beautiful.