• Alyse

Those Pesky Feelings

Before I sit down to write I try to come up with a theme or topic for my posts. Most of the time it morphs into something else, or I go on a tangent. This particular time my head is all over the damn place, and I can't nail down one specific thing I want to talk about.

My journals are full of drama. Because I write when I'm sad, or mad, or confused. Obviously it's a coping strategy, but I very rarely write when things are going well. The same thing seems to apply to my blog posts, so let's all take that silver lining that when I'm quiet over here, I'm doing okay.

Except that I came back to write something...

I'm not okay.

My little boy was in the hospital all week. The first night home after a stay like that is always hard. We don't have the beeps of the machines that become oddly reassuring that he's still doing alright even if he looks terrible. Or the trained professionals running to our bedside when something is slightly amiss. What you have is a very freaked out mama bear, that has no idea what she's doing, is having emotional breakdowns because she's been triggered, and all she can remember are the hospitals where her family died, the pills that killed them, and overwhelming decision making that is, well, overwhelming!

There are a few topics I wanted to talk about:

Opioids, because always with the opioids...

Support, again, because always with the support...

Hospital support, and this one is new, still support, but of a different variety...

I'll talk about opioids later. I already instagramed a tangent on that one.

Something I hear, and see a lot, on social media is this: When something bad goes wrong, you find out who your real friends are. You found out who's really got your back.

You see the very small percentage of true friends among your acquaintances who reach out, talk to you, love you, send you donuts just because, or flowers, or several stuffed animals for your little boy because they're his favorite, or drop everything they're doing to fly to your house and potentially spend a lot of time being bored, but at least your daughter isn't alone anymore... Those people who check in with a quick text, or a quick video so you can see their face and be reassured that you're not as alone and isolated as you feel...

Those people who help you take your mind off of what's happening with random stories or gossip, and make you laugh when all you've done is cry, and yell at unsuspecting nurses because one of them said oxycodone...

Those are the people you want to surround yourself with. That's the kind of person you yourself hope you can be for the very same people you have grown to love.

Then there are the people you wish you were hearing from, but who have been silent the entire week, and you're afraid to reach out with your drama because they're busy and don't need or want that nonsense. Or at least, this is the thing you're telling yourself.

That's where walls are built. And you want to be mad, or resent them for it, because YOU care about them so much, but they don't seem to care as much back...

Here's the truth about that one, you have no idea what they're going through either, and maybe they don't realize how much you're hurting.


*on a scale of happy to sad, how supported do you feel?*

There's a third situation here, and a third group of people, or even just one person. When you've been through hours upon hours of therapy and seen within yourself that the second thing happens, and your therapist asks you "have you reached out to tell them you're hurting and need help?" and your answer is no, but you don't want to tell her that because it's their fault and not yours, they should just be there out of the kindness of their hearts because that's the right thing to do!!! Stubborn.

You ruminate on that thought for a while, and over the next few years you practice saying "please help me" when you have problems, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't, and sometimes you demand it when it looks like it's not going to work, and because those people love you they listen, and let you be a demanding asshole because they know you're in pain, and they forgive you, and love you anyway, and drop what they're doing and make it work.

Support is a hard thing to come by sometimes, and because I've seen so many people saying the first thing, I know they're feeling the second. Resentful and angry towards the people in their lives that they love but don't drop everything they're doing even to so much as text or call "hey, how are you?". I lived in that world for years. It fueled the fire that made me write my book. How was my pain not obvious? Why can't you see that it would mean the world to me that you just checked on me and then let me vent?

Support has to work both ways. There are definitely people who will just jump in and be there. That's wonderful. There are those who will distance themselves for their own reasons, and then there's you and how you support yourself and react to all the varieties of support that people can or can not offer.

Facebook status: IT'S COMPLICATED

I'm sharing because I have felt all of those things this week.

Has my little boy? No.

I'm the only one over here worrying about any of this.

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