Have you ever listened to yourself? No, I mean really listened to yourself? I always think I know it all but there are those times I say something and it doesn't register in my brain as to what I am really saying. We went to a wedding the other day and there was a break in between the reception so we had time to kill. We went to see my parents for a bit and decided to stop home and check on the dog before we moved on to the reception. While we were driving home from visiting my parents and almost home I said to Rich, "This will be good to go home so I can freshen up my makeup and put some powder on so I make the outside look good because it sure doesn't match what the inside looks or feels like." BOING! The words no longer left my mouth and I was shocked as to how my brain had processed what I just said. I even said to Rich, "I can't believe I just said that, how sad." I sat quietly in the car until we pulled in the drive thinking about it. I thought of how you can think so many things in your head about being chronically ill but usually you don't say them out loud. All those things you never blurt out that have to do with the big cover up of being ill. We made it home I freshened up and we left for the reception.
We sat at a table at the reception with three other couples and only one of the couples knew about my illness, the other two had no clue. I am sure looking at me they would never have thought I didn't feel that good. I'm sure when they asked if I worked outside the home and I said told them I didn't, they had all those thoughts that most people probably think when you say you don't work. I don't feel like I have to explain anything anymore. I don't care. I don't care what people think. I am to a point where it is easier to stay home in my safe bubble where no one has to question me, my safe haven where my dog and cat don't care how I look or feel, they just love me. Home where I can move at my own pace and not have to be the party pooper sitting on the sidelines. Most people can drink and dance at receptions but not me because the alcohol and drugs don't mix. Dancing is out of the question because the next day I really do need to be able to walk. The best part of this whole, listening to myself, helped me to process it all. It helps me get to get to the place of acceptance. I think all of the,"I don't care anymore," at least for me, is it the acceptance phase or is it still denial? I don't know but finally after years of fighting it all to the bone I can finally say I am sick of fighting. It is what it is and when I say things like 'I need to get home to powder my face to cover up what is going on inside' it makes me realize I am different but it is okay. It makes me realize maybe I am getting to the acceptance stage because before I never would have said that out loud I would have just held it all inside for only me to think about.
In the end of writing this, as I observe everything everyone says now when I am out, I wonder how many people analyze what they are saying out loud. I listen to people talk and I hear most people waiting to put in their opinions or beliefs without ever listening to what the other person just said. "Not me, Well I, Me this, I that, it is sad. It is sad we don't take the time to listen to others only to be worried about the next thing we are going to say or compete about. I am grateful Rich listened to me that day. He didn't say much except his usual you look fine you don't need to freshen up your makeup. His way of blowing off my stupid thoughts that I blurted out but for me it was more it shut me up and gave me another understanding of living with illness and for that I am grateful.