Ahh, those lonely days. The lonely days. When you need to do something and really need the help, but then realize that you have nobody to turn to. Or, there are the days when you want to go out and be with people and nobody makes the time or wants to make the time, or you have to deal with chronic pain and nothing is working. I am not talking caretakers, students or parents either.
While many would see this as my fault, being neurodivergence does not help matters. I was also raised in a chaotic household. There were hardly any good role models, just ideas that hardly stood in real life. Most of all, I was taught to help others and to never think of myself...because I was fat, a child, whatever excuse someone said.
As the years passed, I began realizing that people wanted me to do things for them. They never replicated the same love and care I gave to others and I never understood why. If I did not follow a certain narrative, it was my fault and I was the enemy. Sometimes, my trauma was used against me. I got tired of it, so I set boundaries, which many did not like. It was worse when I was diagnosed with several chronic illnesses that limited my life. Then, the name calling began.
It's not like I cannot get around or that I am lazy. Every morning, I am out of bed without complaint and getting things done. My own hygiene, taking the dog out, helping people prep for the day. Everything has to be done, whether or not my body lets me. Whether or not I can stand. I have no choice.
And here is another point: communication is a two-way street and I could reach out too. But that was what I did before I got really sick. I also learned that it was a trauma response and stopped, sure that people ran in the opposite direction and got tired of me.
When I stopped talking to people, the house of cards fell. One by one, everyone disappeared. They have their lives, of course, and they had no time to stop in to visit. There are dozens of ways I could get on with my life, and I learned it myself. To be alone, to just be me.
No resentment. No anger. It had nothing to do with me. In chronic illness, you can wallow or you can walk. I chose the latter.
It does not mean the pity parties are not there. The days where I do wallow and wonder what I did wrong to deserve such loneliness. I wish somebody took time for me. Sat for some face-to-face coffee chat. Was a friend and actually asked me what was wrong without judging me. Helped out with Calvin, or tried to form a good relationship with him. My teen has already lost so much.
But this quiet has brought me so much more. Peace is better than false faces. I did not have to wait for the other shoe to drop. There was nobody I had to please. The world was open for me to do whatever I wanted to do.
So, I continued to write.
Even on my worst days, I know there is love all around me. It is in those who live far away, but listen to me bitch or just talk nonsense at 2 AM. There are the homeless people who have light in their eyes and arms full of hugs when I visit. There is also my community, who understands the struggles. And if you believe it, there is an afterlife, and our loved ones will be on the other side.
For my neurodivergent followers, a meme. I will have more later in the series.
Namaste, everyone. Have a great week!
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