Disconnect

Despite what I write here on a somewhat regular basis, I'm not a complainer.

Now, yes, I absolutely love to bitch and cackle with glee at other people's stupidity, but, in general, I do not complain about my own circumstances.

I may occasionally mention that I have a migraine or that my hands and feet hurt, but the only person to whom I mention -- not whine or complain about -- my chronic pain is my husband.

It's kinda like what Margaret Cho says about her period: Considering how often it happens, I hardly talk about it at all.

Mostly, I suppose this is because I was raised to suck it up. In addition, however, for a variety of what I'm sure are psychologically deep reasons, I continue to view the expression of pain on my part as a sign of weakness.

I think this puts me at a disadvantage for a number of reasons.

First, it makes me less likely to receive the medical help I need palliatively. Unless I'm pretty much at the "Holy shit, I can't bear this anymore" stage, I'm unlikely to say anything until the pain gets so bad that it's nearly impossible to break the pain cycle. So, I probably live with more pain than I need to.

Second, it makes it that much more difficult for those around me to understand the depth of my pain. For example, yesterday, I had one of the worst flares I've had in a very long time. It was one of those flares that nearly left me in tears. I spent the entire day in bed, just lying there, with my hands curled up. Every step I took was agony. To break the monotony of (and the back pain caused by) lying in bed all day, I came downstairs to check e-mail and post yesterday's (already written) entry. As I was sitting at the computer, Eric said to me, "So what's the plan for today?" I asked him what he meant. He said, "Well, we were going to go grocery shopping." I told him there was no (I might have said "fucking" at this point) way I was going to go grocery shopping, and then I got up and went back to bed.

Now, he had seen me spending all day in bed, basically creaking around like an old person when necessary, making liberal use of the bannister to get up and down the stairs.... And then he asked me if I wanted to go grocery shopping....

Somewhere in there, there exists a major disconnect. I'm not sure where it is. And because I don't know where it is, I don't know how to fix it. If I can't fix such a glaring disconnect in my relationship with my husband, how can I ever hope to fix similar disconnects with the rest of my family and friends?

Operator assistance, maybe? Sigh. I dunno.

Comments

[Kelly]

I finally found your blog, Kim! It was a slow Sunday, so I was just going thru somebody's blogroll and I saw "Kim" , then the nephew... and I knew it was you.:D I will have to catch up here!
PS: adding this to the list on my profile.:)

Now, about this post:
Wow. You said it all. I hardly take time to read other blogs since I got going full speed on mine, cuz I spend so many hours working on my stuff, but MAN!!! You said it all. I feel like I don't even need to write my own blog today!! Uh-Oh...
We certainly have a "sisterhood" of experiences... Feeling like you described so often. HULLO?? Anybody on the other end of the line?????????????????????
Kim, thanks for putting it on the line!
And I will try to make myself write my blog today anyway because I remember writing that ALL of our voices are needed (Horton...)