“I’m fine. Really. I’m Ok.” How many times have you said these words? Repeated these words so the person you were saying them to would believe you? So you would believe you?
You’re having a bad day. You are physically in pain and have been working to hide your hurt like it’s your full time job. The wondering and worrying about when the agony will stop has started to drive you crazy. Your mind is a hazy maze of thoughts and forgots . You have trouble remembering what you walked into the room for. You blame “Mom Brain”, but now that your kid is 4… perhaps that excuse ship has sailed. You are tired. You are sick. You are sick and tired of feeling this way, but you don’t know what will help. Sadness has become a constant companion. Hopelessness is knocking loudly at the door.
Things are so different than from what you had planned.
You don’t want to appear weak. You can’t slow down because there is too much depending on you. Too many people need you; your children, your husband, your friends, your co-workers and boss, your family. You don’t want to admit that you can’t handle what life is throwing at you right now, but you are so overwhelmed with the problems you are drowning.
The pseud is cracking. The pseud can’t crack. You will not allow it.
Does this sound at all familiar?
When I first got sick, there were days I couldn’t hide my pain because it was so devastating. A pronounced limp overtook my stride as my foot swole, turned red and screamed the moment I put any pressure on it. The joint pain was awful and took me out of what had been my normal routine. The white of my right eye turned blood red from my tear duct to my iris due to inflammation. I had to squint at any change in the light because my eye was sensitive to anything other than dim. These days were terrible, but those closest to me understood because I was in the throes of a flare and it was obvious how hard it was.
Once I got a little better, I was so relieved. After all, it was better than what I had been dealing with. But what I came to realize was the days where I could walk without a limp and after my eye appeared to return to normal… those days were actually worse. Don’t get me wrong. I was thankful to be able to walk mostly normally again. I was grateful not having a reminder of my disease with every glance of my face in the mirror. I was so happy that I could go outside without my eyes immediately shutting because the change in light was so intense. But I was fake well. My still swollen foot ached. My shoe was tight and uncomfortable. I was able to hide the limp most of the time. I still couldn’t go running or exercise. I still couldn’t play with my boys the way I had before. The way I wanted to. On these days, no one understood that I was still suffering. When you don’t look sick, it’s hard for others to take you seriously.
So on the days you feel somewhat better you learn to lie. You lie because you’d rather not answer the questions. It’s not fun to talk about being sick.
You lie because your loved ones care and want you to be better. You don’t want them to keep worrying. When all you should be focused on is healing yourself, you’re still more worried about how those around you feel.
You become a martyr to perfection because everything else is so out of control. If you can just do a little more, sacrifice a little more you can make up for everything you now lack because of your disease. You live a lie as a means of protecting those you love from your pain.
Unfortunately, healing doesn’t work that way. You can’t live as someone you are not and get better. You cannot pretend to be well when physically, mentally and emotionally you are on a roller coast plummeting straight down. You can’t torture yourself in false perfectionism as a way to forget that you are hurting. And I promise you, the more you try to hide what you are feeling, the more resentment will build towards those closet to you. Because they don’t care as much as they should. Because they stop checking in on you. Because they move along with their lives with a hum drum normalcy you would now give anything for.
It’s NOT that they no longer care; they don’t know they should. After all, in their eyes you’ve faked your way to a clean bill of health.
The truth is, by trying to hide your pain you aren’t protecting anyone.
What you are doing is being unauthentic. You are lacking vulnerability. You are creating more problems.
Vulnerability is scary. I get that better than most. It’s terrifying to put yourself out there and not know how it will be received. It’s hard to be open and honest when all you want to do is hide. But showing yourself, even at your perceived worst, is the only way. Especially when you are wounded and weak.
The people who love you will love you regardless of your current situation. They do care. Immensely. They want you to heal and they want to help you by whatever means they can. But they want you to really be better, not faking your way through life as you struggle to maintain your sanity.
Once I finally accepted this, my situation began to improve. Being trapped in a mental hell was doing nothing to help me heal. In fact, I believe it kept me sick longer. Having allies in my husband, family and a couple of close friends made a world of difference. I was able to talk about how I felt- all of it- and instead of getting irritated that I wasn’t better yet, they provided a concerned ear. They checked in on me, something they couldn’t do while assuming I was healed. Being open and honest with them allowed me to be open with myself. I was able to accept my new situation and that was the first step in healing myself fully.
So do yourself and your loved ones a favor and stop trying to protect them. Be who you are. Be who you are in the pain, the uncertainty and in the terrifying reality you feel you are facing. They may not completely understand, but I bet you they will try their best to. It just may be the piece of the puzzle that saves you.