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.
I read something the other say that said ‘my alone time is sometimes for your safety’. We all need the world to ‘back off’ at times. You are no differant. Your friends want to be useful, want to help, want to, in some small way, make your life easier. Like me, they would jump at the chance to be helpful, but it is hard to remember it is not about us, it is about you. At this point in your life, as independant as you are, and were, its hard for us to let go and know ‘you can do it’.
Your last sentence (plea?!) got me thinking about my own experiences of feeling out of control of my own life and being smothered by kindness on one hand but in the same time needing the care and love of others to get me through. This experience comes through the lens of infertility, miscarriage and the death of my second little girl over half way through my pregnancy.
After Caitlin’s death I would go from craving the care and love of others to wanting nothing more than to be left alone to wallow in my grief and anger. Being so obviously pregnant one day and then not the next opened up some hard to handle interactions (awkward conversations, questions, comments, advice, sympathy, stares) for many months afterwards. Some of this was blown out of proportion in my own head but I felt exposed and very vulnerable, ‘going to ground’ often to avoid ‘people’ and those interactions. Majority of family, friends and acquaintances had their hearts in the right place (I got a few wayward comments but I put that down to peoples uncomfortableness around death and grief). I often did not know what I needed from them at any given time, and when I did, I found it hard to articulate – so they had no chance of getting it right all the time.
Hang in there Claude.
Oh, Bec. I am so sorry for your loss. The pain, grief, vulnerability, is just compounded by awkward no matter how well meaning. Through this past year and a half, I’ve been struck by how impoverished our language is and how impoverished WE are when it comes to facing another person’s suffering. These are the most important times of our lives when we need other people, we need to be able to grieve together with the people closest to us, we need to be able to ask for what we need and get it. We would be better humans for it. You hang in there too, mate.
My mother living on my doorstep. Expalining that any further even makes me sound ungrateful!