Don't let your world become small. I saw it happening to me and my attempts to do anything about it were too small, or just not effective enough, or a million things. I live in a rural place. Everyone I was close to left, or left me, or died, or. . .
And now I'm sick and I've got to go to a new doctor tomorrow morning and every time I think about driving there myself and having to go through this myself and having to try to stay totally focused and unemotional and process whatever this doctor says to me without another person to be there to hold my hand or remind me what happened or sit down with me afterward and try to laugh about it all. . .well, I just start weeping. These are not the kind of things we are meant to go through alone. Yeah, sure, some people are fine with it, some people even prefer it, but I am not and do not, and it brings up so much fear and sadness that the tears keep flowing. And then they stop. I go do something, am reminded of what's going on in my life while trying to do some simple task that's nearly impossible and I've still got my pajamas on and it's 7:20pm and just keep thinking about driving myself to that doctor's appointment at 8:00am, a time when I'm usually in so much pain that I'll have to wake up at 5:00am to manage it. . .I wonder "is there someone I can pay to go with me?" You can hire a taxi (if you can pay over a hundred bucks) to get from here to there, but no, you can't hire someone to be there for you. No wonder there are some people who go to whores to "just talk." They are more the object of ridicule than those who go to whores to have sex.
You might be thinking "oh this woman is feeling just so sorry for herself" and dismiss me. Go right ahead. There's a difference between self-pity and sadness. I feel sadness. I also feel anger, at myself, and no one else. I'm sad about the fact that not one relative has ever visited me in the hospital when I've been in one (which is plenty)or sent me flowers when I've been sick. But what makes me angry? The commercials and shows on TV that depict people in hospitals or at their doctors with their "loved ones" at their sides. Every time I turn on the television (which I shouldn't do) it hurts. I may not notice it at the time, but over the years, the pain builds into this ball of shame about still feeling any sadness. Why haven't I fucking gotten over it already? Why have I sought out people who re-injure me in exactly the same places that my family of origin did?
'Cause that's what people tend to do. In that way, I'm not even the least bit special. The thing that pisses me off the most about myself is that I've seen this, I've seen it over and over and over, and I've done not a damned thing about it.
And why am I writing about it "in public", shaming myself even more? 'Cause I don't want you, whoever you are, to be like me. I don't want you to re-enact your childhood injuries throughout your entire adult life. I want you to be healthier than I am. I'm serious. It makes me feel better if I can use myself as a bad role model: don't do what I did. Don't be like me. Don't think that you can blithely walk away from a childhood of pain and close the door behind you and think that you can just live life as if everything was okay. There are some who do, highly resilient people, people that psychiatrists scratch their heads in wonderment over, and no one knows how they got that way. Pathology? That's understandable. Resiliency? They don't understand it.
In some ways I have been resilient. I'm still here, even though I planned on being dead by 21. I'm still here, even though I tried hard to annihilate myself. I'm a survivor. And the truth is, I love life. In spite of daily physical pain, in spite of never having been able to live up to any of my potential, in spite of fighting every day of my life against depression, against a core of a desire to give up, I won't give up. I'll never give up. I'll never keep trying to get over whatever it is I have to get over.
The thing is, I'm exhausted. My body is screaming at me to stop. I'd love to stop. I'd love to lay down and sleep. I'd love for someone to hold me, to stroke my head, to tell me they love me, to tell me everything is going to be okay even if it's not, to tell me they'll love me in spite of whatever it is, that I'm worth any hurdle, any hardship, any craziness, in sickness and health, 'till death do us part. But right now, I'd just give anything for a friendly person to give me a ride to the doctor and I don't even have that.
How did it come to this? Please, oh please, don't let this happen to you. Don't allow your world to shrink on you. Cultivate your friendships. If you live in isolation, don't (unless you love it). If you have secrets you're keeping, open your mouth. Secrets keep us isolated. If people stop coming round, figure out why and do something about it. If the people you know don't want to hear what's going on with you, find those who do. Do something. Open up.
The thing of it is, I've done this and it didn't help. Or I waited too long. Or it was hopeless. I don't know. I watched my life get smaller and smaller and I knew it was bad for me.* I got sicker and I tried to ignore it. Everyone was sick of Julie being sick. Do you think I wasn't? I sick to death of being sick. Ignoring it doesn't help. Pretending everything is okay is the worst thing one can do. I've done it for so long that I couldn't stop. Sure, I complained, but that was just whining. Who wants to be around a whiner. Not I. No one does.
I wasn't lonely. I'm not lonely now. Am I lying? No. I like being alone. I enjoy my own company. But, it's not healthy. And if one is sick, it's deadly. I have barely been able to get from one room to another. How the hell am I gonna get to the doctor? I can, sure. But it's going to take everything out of me. I'll bring paper and pen and try to stay focused. I'll try not to cry. I've got to get through this. I've got to be strong.
I cried at the GP last week and she said should cry some more. I cried so hard a little while ago I bet they could hear me next door. And then I thought "I should write about this. Tell the truth." No, it's not 'cause I want my life to be a reality TV show. I may have a need to get all the support I can get, even from strangers, but it's more. I really, really, hope that by my spilling my guts out, if only one person in the world learns something from it, they will not turn out like me.
If you are young and self-medicating, stop. Get some help. If you are not young and are self-medicating, stop, and get some help. If you are living in an unbearable situation, get out. If you are hurting in any way, figure out what you need. If you are not taking care of yourself, please start. If you are lonely because you're shy, try to push through it. If you're lonely because you're isolated, move . If you aren't getting what you need in any way, for any reason, remember that life is short. Life is very short. It's precious, it's painful, it's joyful, and you've only got one. Yep, these are platitudes. There's a reason that something is repeated so often that it becomes a cliche. But, what I'm writing is not a platitude. It's a plea. Life is too short to be afraid of change, to be afraid of pushing your limits, to be afraid of stretching yourself, to be afraid of rejection, pain, whatever it is that scares you. Life is to short not to do what it is you want to do. Do it. It's hard, but be yourself, love yourself, love others, and do it with everything you've got. Don't wait until it's too late. Don't live with regrets. Don't wait until you're too sick or too old or about to die to wake up. Do it now. Please.
Image note: I don't believe in a hell after death. But there is hell on earth. I'm lucky compared to most. People live in the most unbearable circumstances. Don't think for a moment that I don't know it, so that is why what I've written is not self-pity, just sadness. But, thinking this way does diminish it, and it is one reason that believing one should "count one's blessings" does keep many people (including myself) from living life to it's fullest. Yes, count your blessings, but also, take your pain seriously. Don't live in the hell realm.
*And no, I didn't keep in touch enough. I stopped cultivating my friendships, honoring others as much I could have. I did much wrong. I stopped volunteering, reaching out, helping, putting myself out there, calling, sending cards. . .yeah, I could have done a lot, a lot more. I lost the energy. When I had it, I should have used it more wisely. I didn't. Yes, I'm a bad role model, so there it is. Like I said (or am about to): don't be like me.
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