9 October 2016
It will surprise no one to find out that my first sentence was “I can do it!” usually accompanied by hand flapping and maybe a grimace. One of my earliest memories is of my mother walking away with her hands in the air saying “well go on and do it yourself then” and my very conflicted feelings of “I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings” alongside “yay! finally! victory is mine”. “Victory is mine” won out and I went on with my task rather than inviting her to come back and help some more.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be given too much. To have too much assistance. To be given unwanted gifts. To be given unsolicited advice. All of these unasked for things are landing in the same basket these days and my basket is just about full. Time to tip it out here in front of you, my friends.
I have in-home care courtesy of the ACC. Cool. A person comes into our house every day and takes up my slack with the housework and provides the support I need to get myself up and out the door. As I have gotten stronger and more adept at this whole paraplegic caper, I can, of course, do more for myself and for us. More than that, I am craving privacy and freedom from ‘outsiders’. I have no doubt that this person cares for me and for Steve. I have no doubt that her intentions come from compassion and concern. I also have no doubt that if I allowed it, she would absolutely rob me of skills just by virtue of doing everything for me and stepping in rather than even letting me try. That would not be her intention, but it would happen, and I cannot let it be.
Sometimes it is easy to ask her to back off. It is easy to say, “no thank you, please let me try first”. But I find myself wishing she wasn’t here. Wishing she would leave early on the weekends. Wishing (honestly) that she would just piss off.
Which sounds horrible. Which sounds ungrateful. Which sounds, dare I say it, impolite.
And none of this is any different to a person coming into your house bearing gifts that you don’t need or don’t want. Since when did polite become mutually exclusive with honest? Why can’t I say no thank you without feeling like I’m ungrateful? Why can’t I be grateful for the intention without being grateful for its particular manifestation?
And none of this is any different to a person offering unsolicited advice about … well, about anything really. How one ought to live, how one ought to eat, how one ought to exercise, how one ought to dress. I should start keeping a tally of unsolicited advice in the categories of helpful and not so helpful. And the unhelpful could be put into sub-categories of bleeding obvious, rude, thoughtless and unhelpful-bordering-on-harmful.
The sucky suck suck part is that I am worried about being impolite because in about 30 seconds I’m going to have to ask that same person to help me do something. Galling. Bloody galling.
I’m pretty sure all of this relates to my current condition. I’ve had to rely on others for about 18 months now. I’ve had to open myself up to letting people look after me, asking for help on a daily (at times, hourly) basis – to reach something, to open a door, to carry something. I’ve been opening myself up by virtue of appearing vulnerable even if I feel strong and capable. It’s getting old, but I doubt it is any harder for me to wrestle with than it is for anyone else. Please share. Make me feel less alone with your stories of ingratitude in all its shameless victory.