While surviving the spring schedule of activities may turn out to be a huge test of endurance and spoon rationing, I can report to not only surviving the nature field trip on Tuesday but also not losing any children down the ravine---no matter how determined my charges were to walk along the edges or hang over the "rickety" bridges. I call into question the unsteady nature of all the wooden structures, since these bridges seemed perfectly fine for our male guide, myself, and all four girls to cross without incident. (Apparently it has more to do with some 5th grade boys learning the art of clomping around like Andre the Giant.) Friday I even managed to distribute yearbooks with my partner in crime whilst only being afflicted with a half dozen paper cuts. So I was tired and incredibly sore by the weekend, but not as bad as it could have been. I've certainly had worse and even expected worse, so maybe (cross my fingers) I am finally learning to better ration my spoons.
What I didn't expect last week was to hear so many people were suffering within our own limited sphere. Babies and teachers especially have been on our hearts lately since we know many facing their own health struggles. With so many facing battles and sorrows, it makes me feel even more compelled to protect the innocent childhood moments we have left at my home. At the very least it was a great reminder to focus on what I can do, rather than the negative of what I can't or allowing negative thoughts and experiences to overtake the ME I want to be. As a result I've been trying to focus on our successes at home, and when comparing my efforts for experiencing this school year with the kids to last year, I am pleased to see this year is a vast improvement. We've definitely made traction since overhauling our lives/priorities as a family this fall, and I have hope I'm finally learning to make room to be more present for the important parts of these growing up years.
For my part I'm still struggling, adjusting, and so easily frustrated with my new normal, but I'm also learning to cut myself a break. I try not to waste energy worrying how others perceive my choices, although that meant recognizing some friendships wouldn't survive the change. I wish I could warn those friends struggling themselves that this is a time to discover how strong your foundation is, because although the decline can be subtle and sometimes abrupt, you are rarely prepared for how all-consuming the changes to your lifestyle can be. Realizing some friendships were based solely on what you brought to the table rather than emotional connection can feel like the absolute last straw some days, and subsequently I've had to acknowledge people's well-meaning words can be hurtful and learn to construct my defenses in advance of thoughtless comments.
Frankly I know Anger is the second stage of grieving, but this is the emotion I have the hardest time managing. I've been largely accepting of everything over the last few years. My health is what it is. I might feel different if I had a hand in getting here, but since I'm just trying to deal with the pieces as I understand them, I don't see much use in wasting time with being angry about it. Perhaps living in a drugged fog was helpful to circumvent this stage in the beginning or perhaps being barely able to stand long enough to shower took the wind out of my sails, but I am still left to deal with the here and now... wherever that is.
Regrettably I have this other kind of anger I barely manage to hide, and generally I don't want my children to see my fears, anxieties, and frustrations bubbling to the surface as anger. So I tamp it down and smother it with sarcasm, denial, whatever is handy. But honestly, some days I am just struggling to deal with everything about my new normal and someone will break out the latest version of Health-Nut Weekly or tell me how they know how I feel now--because they had some mosquito bites that itched REALLY BAD the other night--and I feel my world tilt as I'm thrown down Alice's rabbit hole. I've learned not to waste energy on carrying heavy items, but I can still waste all kinds of spoons seething over someone's insensitive commentary on my life.
And then I'm twice as mad because I let the ignorant win by stealing my spoons.
Many people feel they are experts on illness management it seems. Apparently reading Wikipedia entries on the internet trumps medical professionals with real degrees and licenses and years of practice with fellowships for specialized research. Maybe more than anything, it galls me to think people believe I must have gone to Minnesota TWICE in the same winter because it was fun or amusing (or who knows why), because obviously I'm an idiot who didn't weigh every option for treatment carefully... obviously I threw darts at a map or just had a hankering to see the Midwest for the first time. I don't understand this let-me-dissect-your-medical-concerns inclination (maybe because I've always known science wasn't my thing), but having someone play armchair doctor with my life makes me feel marginalized, dismissed, and rejected. And no matter how much I remind myself that these badly informed comments are well-intended, it doesn't stop the rage and resentment that overtakes me.
Bottom line though, I don't want to be an angry person. I don't want to waste time thinking of all the ways I had to bite my tongue and use an inordinate amount of strength to prevent my inner Snark from responding.
I don't want anger to be the legacy I leave for my children to remember me by.
I want to be a better person, but I honestly don't know where to start.
Some days it seems my only option is never to be in public... EVER. Or to wear a neon sign warning the population I am NEVER in the mood for armchair diagnoses from hippie herbalists or pill pushers or slap-happy surgery fanatics. I have doctors---lots of them, and not just ones I found down the street but at Mayo Clinic for Pete's sake!---and while I respect my physicians' opinions, that doesn't extend to the greater public with a DSL connection. Because at this point, if I had listened to a third of the well-meaning suggestions I've received so far---I would be DEAD. Like a doornail.
Do people NOT think practicing medicine is hard??? Do they understand about toxicity levels or what it takes to actually remove an organ from the body? Have they ever had to wonder if they would wake up from anesthesia or when they could look their children in the eye again without bursting into tears from feeling completely overwhelmed? This isn't a game people! Or if it is to you, consider our acquaintance hereby ended.
So from now on, if you think some experimental treatment you read about on Jim Bob's liver blog is the way to go... drink yourself into cirrhosis and you go first.
Seriously, be my guest, but don't for one minute delude yourself into thinking that you are being helpful, that your comments are more than an annoying buzzing sound in my ear, because I am done.
I am done with smiling blandly while someone eviscerates my life with thoughtlessness veiled in friendly advice. My inner-Eastman has decided some people need a reality check or to be shown the door, and while I will try to find a polite way to do so because--- Jesus help me---these people undoubtedly believe they are being supportive, I have to find a way to protect myself. Because I only have so many spoons, and they aren't up for grabs anymore.
I am a real person.
With fears.
And struggles.
Like anyone else just trying to live their life.
And if you are really my friend---as my brother always reminds me---you will understand.
