I’ve had a couple of rough weeks, though in truth, I’d have to say “rough decade”, but I’d prefer to focus on the present. Some of it I would prefer to address in a future piece that is nearly completed, but the rest I’d like to get out of my system. Unfortunately, I don’t even know where to start.
Like any intelligent writer, I think things through. I don’t “wing it” and hope for the best. There’s an art to how you write, how you speak, and how you communicate. Sometimes, I wish everyone were as gifted with the written and spoken word as I am, but I realize that’s not realistic, or fair, however, it leaves me incredibly frustrated with some of the people in my life and how they speak to me.
My being an incredibly private person isn’t a secret. In fact, I think it’s pretty well-established. However, a few people crossed some very serious boundaries with me over the past few weeks and they are utterly fucking clueless that the boundaries exist. The sad part is; I’ve had to establish these boundaries multiple times with the same people. Only one of them can legitimately say “I forgot.” because she is going through a health issue that affects her memory. It’s not an excuse, but it’s her only “Get Out Of Jail Free” card with me, and even that is getting slim these days. The other person is just plain being an ass, and I am not okay with it. I don’t find it cute, humorous, respectful, etc. I don’t find someone’s sudden interest in my life acceptable behavior. You cannot suddenly ask me deeply personal questions and expect an answer from me. I don’t care if you’ve known me for twenty years or twenty minutes; I still have boundaries. When I say “I am not going to discuss this.” that’s precisely what it means. I don’t owe you answers.
From day one, I have openly and honestly discussed my medical issues and struggles. I have kept my doctors names private, for obvious reasons, and I’ve kept personal details private. I’d expect most of us to do the same. What I write about in terms of subject matter may be open and honest, but my private life is still PRIVATE. Privacy, while scarce, still means something to me. Yes, you can read this and subscribe, but I don’t owe you every tiny detail of my life (Don’t worry, you’re really not missing anything.).
My closest friends are smart enough not to push my buttons (Well, apparently not all of them are so smart.), and yet, so many of you, over the years, have sent me the kindest messages to let me know you care, or that you’re listening, or that my candor has inspired you in some way. That means more to me than someone being nosy or invasive simply because they feel entitled to push me for “answers”.
There is no magical substance on this planet that is going to heal and/or fix me. I have ALWAYS known this. It’s called “being honest with yourself”. Prescription medications (probably over fifty, if I add in all the various migraine meds), several courses of Eastern medicine, enough vitamins & supplements to open my own GNC, eating the healthiest foods you can think of, etc., and nothing has made anything better. I exercised obsessively at times, three times a day, in an attempt to try to “control” what was going on internally and allow the external aspect to take over. It didn’t work, not for long. I’ve lost over thirty pounds in the past month and a half. Can I afford to lose more weight? Yes. I’m not worried about the weight loss, but I am worried about where I stand from an emotional standpoint.
When I inevitably told a few people what was going on post-diagnosis, only a few people rallied around me. One person checks in with me daily to make sure I’m okay, even if it’s just a few quick texts back and forth. Another checks in about once a week, when she can, and again, it’s the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. It’s someone saying “How are YOU?” and genuinely caring, instead of trying to fix me or making me feel lesser. I call that acceptance. We raise our children to accept everyone precisely as they are, but as adults, there is very little acceptance of anyone who is different from us. I find it disgusting, especially when it comes from those who are supposed to love and care about us. You truly learn who is on your side during rough times. People say one thing, but do something else entirely, and they don’t factor in whether or not what they’re doing might be hurtful.
I do not expect anyone to get on a plane and hold my hand, because that’s not going to fix anything, but would it be great for the majority of people in my life to be less self-involved and self-centered? Yes. However, I expect nothing from others because that is ultimately what I get, no matter how much I give. It is important to give to the right people, as opposed to those who can only give you small percentages of themselves.
You might visit other places on the Internet and find a person listing their entire physical and mental health diagnoses from A to Z. They have the right to do so because for many people, that is where they get their support and it’s also where they feel safe to vent, but that’s not what anyone is ever going to get from me. I might vent, but ultimately, venting has never been my goal.
First and foremost, I am a writer. This is a writer’s platform, NOT a blog. I am NOT a “writer who blogs”, but a writer who uses her voice as a platform to speak my mind, and to properly use the platform I am given, I cover topics that matter to me, and others, and I say things other people are often afraid to say. I advocate where I can, when I can, but I’m imperfect and human. A lot of people are afraid to use their voice for the purpose(s) in which I use mine, but I utterly lack the ability to be shy. I have moments of quiet observation, but I assure you, I am NOT a shy woman. I catch myself at times having to bite back my internal dialogue because sometimes, my inappropriate comments have a mind of their own and they desperately want to come flying out of my mouth. I try very hard to be tactful. but sometimes, I genuinely don’t give a shit how I come off to someone else. Okay, that’s nine days out of ten, but I TRY.
I have never intentionally hurt someone I have professed to love and/or care about, but I’ve had so many people say those words and intentionally hurt me in the process. I live my life with a “live and let live” policy. You don’t hurt me, and I’ll let you live. 😉 All kidding aside, I don’t see what anyone gains out of saying something nasty, aggressive, or hurtful to someone they say they love. How does that make you a better person? How does that make life easier? How is that helpful?
I will never be a “Kill ’em with kindness” kind of girl. It’s disingenuous to me to “fake it ’til you make it” with others. If I can’t be 100% real, then I can’t be in your presence. I’m tired of biting my tongue.
Some people will always be comfortable talking for the sake of talking, or in this case, writing for the sake of writing. I prefer to write with genuine purpose. I want my words to have meaning and value to the person on the other side who is reading them. Sometimes I will make you laugh, and sometimes I might make you cry. There are times I will make you think, but ultimately, if I can provoke you to walk away better, stronger, smarter, or more of any one thing in life, then I, as a writer, have done my job.
If you haven’t noticed the boundaries, there’s caution tape up. Please be sure to stay behind it. In the meantime, I’ll be here with Cat, Kitten, and my fucking Invisibility Cloak, lest someone gets dumber with me this week! After all, it’s ONLY Tuesday. Someone’s bound to screw up or dig themselves a deeper hole. I am rolling my eyes with anticipation. Yes, I’m being sarcastic and snarky. Much like high cheekbones and heterochromia, they are two of my best features. 😉
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